Bloodlines: Heritage Year
by Dark2Light
Summary: AU. The Marauders agree that Evans isn't quite human this year. Lily, the fiery class misfit, is pondering her father's disappearance, new cravings for meat, and dark visions. As Heritage Year ensues, she'll discover the answers are all in the bloodlines.
1. Prologue

Though Eyes of Emerald

_**Dear Father,**_

The people in the little town of Godric's Hollow were rather isolated from the rest of the world. For inexplicable reasons, the clock moved just a little bit slower there. Everyone knew everyone. No face in their little village went unrecognized. And anybody could find time to stop by a friend's home to say hello. Mothers cooked a hearty dinner in their tiny household domains each night. Ravenous hard-working fathers and uncles soon arrived, chorusing folksongs, in their saw-covered clothes trudging from the local lumber mill that was two miles east. Wispy old widows, tucked away in their cottages, would watch the men return home; some might think of their deceased husbands who used to do the same. Others mentally collected tomorrow's bit of juicy gossip with their hawk eyes and giraffe-long necks to exchange with far-away friends on the telephone. This was the daily routine. Of course the young teenagers, who relaxed in the tall shady grasses of the meadow, complained noisily of sheer boredom. Nothing new ever happened in tiny Godric's Hollow. Or rather, nothing happened that was exciting to talk about…not since the explosion anyway. But that was years ago and they were too young to remember it.

_**It's seems like it has been forever since we've talked. I miss you.**_

Mrs. Balbadder was awakened that night, not by the sound of the church tower's midnight chimes, but the rumble of an engine. She had lived alone for twelve years. No one felt sorry for her. All the sympathy went toward the long-dead  
Mr. Balbadder who died of constant hen-pecking. Mrs. Balbadder was terribly old-fashioned and dressed as though it was still the 19th century. She despised pigtails, soiled blouses, and all children. Maybe that was the reason why she never had any.

_**I'm sorry I can't tell you where we are. Please don't worry because I'm doing just fine. That stubborn husband of mine reluctantly sends his love. I suppose he's still sore about those times you tripped him with your cane…on accident, I'm sure.**_

"Stop it! Ya hear me! Stop that blasted racket! Heaven's word…I swear if it's those Colby girls marooning about again-,"

The cantankerous woman donned a frilly bathrobe to place over her, even frillier, nightgown. A pair of gigantic thick-rimmed spectacles was placed upon the sharp bridge of her nose. Mrs. Balbadder never cursed. Because doing so was not lady-like and completely inappropriate for a woman of her stature. After all, she was a very, very, very, very, very distant relative of Lord Charles Southdown I on her mother's side. And Mrs. Balbadder made certain that the townspeople knew it.

The engine rumbled louder as the wrinkled lady ground her dentures together fiercely. They appeared as if they would break from the friction. She pulled a white strand of hair from her button-shaped eyes. Then she counted to three. With a howl, Mrs. Balbadder ran through her home and ripped aside the small curtain over her kitchen windowsill. How was a noblewoman expected to get any beauty sleep with all that commotion going on! Straightening the bifocals, Mrs. Balbadder concentrated on finding the current bane of her existence through the nighttime fog.

_**Those times seem like so long ago. Today, I feel like I'm 40 instead of 21! My headmaster says we've seen too much for our age. But you'll be happy to know, I believe all of these nightmares we're going through will be worth it in the end. **_

It was a car, and not just any car, but an expensive one. The vehicle was one of those old 1920's Rolls Royce models that had been fixed from the bottom up. Its exterior color was silver that flashed beams of moonlight along with its chrome tires. Mrs. Balbadder couldn't suppress a low whistle. Whoever owned that buggy had some serious quid in their pockets. Perhaps one of her distant noble cousins had come to take her away? She indignantly sniffed. It would be about time!

The blinding headlights blinked before coming to an abrupt stop.

_**But I'm scared, Daddy. Not just for me, but for my baby boy. There's too much of a danger that Harry could go through his entire life an orphan. Now I finally understand why real parents worry themselves to death. I glimpsed several gray hairs in the mirror this morning. Do you think I could stop by London to get a touch-up?**_

Almost by magic, a chauffeur dressed head to toe in black slid out from the left side. He was a tall burly man with a rough face, short ponytail, and curly goatee. Beady eyes scanned the area under bushy eyebrows whilst his mouth silently formed words Mrs. Balbadder couldn't understand. For a second, it appeared as if the large man's gaze had settled on her. Then they flickered away after confirming that she wasn't a threat. Mrs. Balbadder's heart sank in disappointment. Obviously these people were either hopeless at recognizing their family members or not looking for her.

The front right passenger door swung open.

_**Sorry. That was my teenage side talking. Don't think I'll ever get ride of it! There's a bit of mum in me when it comes to certain things. You were right, Daddy, when you said that we're more alike than we think.**_

Another male stepped out; this one was a bit shorter. Yet what scared Mrs. Balbadder wasn't his gruff appearance. No, it was the dangerous black pistol lodged on his leather belt that made her gulp. Weapons were never brought into Godric's Hollow. There wasn't a need for them because they lived too far away from criminal activity. But these boys, Mrs. Balbadder's countenance shriveled, meant business. Should she call the authorities?

The second man did a quick surveillance check of his own before opening the backseat door on his side. Out came a woman of petite stature. Similar to the men around her, she was decked all in black except stylishly so. She wore a designer full-skirted wrap dress with long sleeves that had French cuffs. A revealing V-neckline was covered up by a white blouse that she wore underneath everything. Mrs. Balbadder saw the woman fumble with the tie that strapped around her small waist futilely. On the brim of her black hat was an attached veil which shrouded her pale face from Mrs. Balbadder's view.

"Best be carevul, ma'm," The second bodyguard spoke with a thick accent. "Vatch your step."

The lady nodded whilst clicking her heels together nervously. "T-t-thank you, I-Ivan." She sounded as if she might burst into tears at any moment. The old woman eavesdropping from her kitchen window frowned in disapproval. How could a girl, who obviously grew up with quite a bit of money, be so miserable?

_**Could you tell her that I forgive her? Hopefully I'll be able to when all of this is over. But, just in case, I want you to. After all, she taught me how to stand on my own two feet. Though I'm sure it was a blessing in disguise.**_

"_Nikolai, do you have the flowers?_"

Ice was so deeply entwined in his voice; it caused the old eavesdropper to tremble. This man must've obviously been the leader, and the lady's husband, because he slid a broad arm around her waist. Every feature on his person was sharp, aristocratic, and cold. Cobalt blue orbs gazed down upon the bodyguards as they attempted to hand him a coat, which he brushed away with an arrogant sneer. The flesh on his bones was pallor but Mrs. Balbadder had a gut instinct that it hadn't always been that way. She watched the gentleman lean on an expensive-looking cane as gusts of wind ruffled his dark brown mane. Indeed, this man was extremely handsome and Mrs. Balbadder caught glimpses of an adoring smile on the other woman's face. But then, a terrible hacking cough escaped the man's throat. The blonde wife placed the rejected coat worriedly around his shoulders. He was handsome, Mrs. Balbadder realized, but sick…very sick. And if the dead look in his eyes spoke anything, it was that he saw no reason to fight his ailment.

"Sir," the first driver's accent was less pronounced, "Do you really vink you have to do this-"

"_**Don't be ridiculous!**_ _Why on earth wouldn't I?_"

Mrs. Balbadder shivered again. That Artic tone…it was like that fellow never experienced happiness!

Or had forgotten what it felt like.

"Mr. Evans, I don't vink this is vood for your vealth-,"

The brunette glowered before erupting into another painful fit of coughs. As his wife, presumably Mrs. Evans, patted his back soothingly, Mr. Evans spit on the ground. The old woman didn't need to see the bodyguards' faces to know that the red substance was blood.

"_Oh, really? Tell me what else is not good for my health, Ivan,"_ He smiled bitterly. "_It seems that I can't do anything or go anywhere without being reminded that I'm dying."_

_**But you were constantly there for me, Daddy. I can't tell you how much I love you for it. I was always your little girl and you were my sarcastic, over-protective superhero. We meant the world to each other. We knew each other better than you know the human body or how I know the West End, which **__**is**__** saying something. Aunt Millie always said I had you wrapped around my little fingers. Sometimes, when I was in trouble, all I needed to do was smile and you would just laugh it off.**_

"Poppet…please don't speak so negatively-,"

Eyes of the bluest blue closed in patience. "There's no cure for what I have, sweet pea."

"But we still have us!" Mrs. Evans was beginning to sound frantic. Mrs. Balbadder clucked her tongue. It appeared that the younger woman wasn't ready to accept that she would soon be a widow. "We might've lost our children, but, but we can have more-or-or adopt on-,"

Mr. Evans clutched his wife's flailing arms. "We both can't produce children anymore. And you know as well as I do that it wouldn't be the same."

The blonde pitifully leaned against the extravagant car; big salty tears damaged her pretty veil. Yet now, Mrs. Balbadder could see that her eyes were an extremely uncommon shade of mint green. She watched the lady blubber for a few seconds while attempting to speak. A caring Nikolai handed her a blue handkerchief. With a brief thank you, the lady regained some of her lost composure. "W-What a-a-about magic?"

"_**MAGIC!**_" The word was growled out by the stoic man. Pure hatred now lined his eyes. "_What good has magic done for you, me, or anyone else here?! Absolutely nothing!_ _Because of __**magic**_, _my oldest daughter refuses to even look me in the eye, much less talk to me!"_

His glowing eyes were fierce. His breathing was hard. His face became an unhealthy shade of red. Mr. Evans' companions were now desperately trying to calm him.

"Darling, your blood pressure-,"

"_**MAGIC IS A CURSE, AN EPIDEMIC! Long ago, it gave up on me and I gave up on it!**_ _**If I had kept it that way, MY LITTLE GIRL WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN **__**KILLED**__** AND BURIED BEFORE ME!**_"

Mrs. Balbadder flattened her palms against the sides of her wrinkled head. All this screaming was really too much for her aged ears to handle. The man in front of her cottage was becoming hysterical; tears were now running down his face. It seemed as if his tirade was just so he could lash out his pain at the world. Mrs. Balbadder frowned again. What did this non-sense about magic have to do with anything? Mrs. Evans cried even harder. It appeared as if she agreed with her husband's sentiments. He leaned again on his cane, and Mrs. Balbadder noticed he relied heavily on it. Had it always been that way? Or, had this man been crippled or injured in some accident that might've been foolishly deemed "magical"?

The old woman scoffed impatiently. These rich folks had more money than they did sense! Yes, they'd lost some children, but whom, in their right mind, wanted to look after snotty-nosed brats in the first place?! Mrs. Balbadder closed the kitchen window quietly with a huff. She certainly didn't. And, all this talk about _magic_! Pugh! Why, in her day, magic didn't even exist! Honestly! Is this what the younger generation was coming to?! Mrs. Balbadder rolled her eyes whilst pulling the curtains.

Magic, indeed!

_**Daddy, I feel exactly the same way about Harry. He's so adorable and precious. James and I have spoiled him so much. I can't wait for you to see when we try to put him to bed. He refuses to sleep without his favorite plush toy: a stuffed deer named Prongs. Really, I don't understand why James insisted on naming it that. Whenever I ask him, he just snickers and changes the subject. Men! Anyway, Harry has become our life. He's our miracle. We love him **__**so**__** much and want to give him everything. I would die for that little boy in an instant and I don't think that's only my maternal instincts talking. I love being a mother. Funny, huh? Five years ago, I couldn't even imagine myself pouring tea without spilling much less having a child. **_

Mr. Evans was now rocking back and forth. The strong man that had stepped out of the Rolls Royce was replaced with a miserable grieving man that believed life was no longer worth living. He slowly reached a broad hand, which must've grown weak, into his suit pocket and pulled out a yellowing letter. "_S-she wrote me. She told me how much she loved her little boy. Said he was an angel on earth. I-I loved him too. But now, thanks to __**magic**__, my grandson has been scattered to the winds and I'll never get to see him!"_

"Hush poppet," The blonde wife held onto her husband with an iron grip. "I am hurting too. Nikolai, start the car. I don't think we can do this tonight."

_**Sometimes I wonder how my life would be if I had taken that internship at the DRCOMC…**_

"_No."_ The chilling tone had returned; this time it was strict.

"Darling-,"

"_No! I want to see my child!"_

With surprising strength, he pushed away. Ignoring his wife's pleas to come back, Mr. Evans limped rapidly up the hill. Ivan could only hear his boss's laboring breath or see him trip into the cold mud once. The gigantic man pulled a long wooden instrument out of a hidden pouch.

"**Stupefy!"**

_**I suppose I need to wrap this letter up, Daddy. Harry's crying again and I need to help James prepare for Halloween. It's in three days. We're not doing anything too extravagant. At the most, we'll be conjuring faeries and floating pumpkins around the house. It's pretty quiet where I am. I can tell you we're hidden very well and protected by loyal friends. Sirius is coming over tonight. His letter seemed rather urgent so I hope everything's well. But, Daddy, there's no need to worry. Remember my friends at Hogwarts? Sophisticated brats we were! We thought we had everything we wanted before finding out we needed each other to make it. Strange, really. We were each so different. And thinking back, I realize I've learned so much because of them. Things you might not have wanted me to know, Daddy, but I've forgiven you. **_

A red bolt of light hurled itself forward until it struck the clambering man. It didn't miss. Within seconds, Mr. Evans was rendered unconscious and eerily still.

The green-eyed lady breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Ivan. Are you sure he'll be-,"

"Yes, Madame. It was simple stunner." The bearded bodyguard stalked over to the comatose figure and picked him up without effort. He frowned. "Madame, he iz much voo vhin."

Mrs. Evans took a minute to decipher the thick accent. "Is he really? He must be skipping meals again." Whimpering, she grabbed his expensive cane. "I don't know what I can do to make him happy anymore. The disease is getting to his mind. He'll be so furious when he wakes up without seeing-,"

"All ve can do," Nikolai smiled comfortingly "is vope for the best."

_**I miss Dedushka and Babushka. I try not to get too sad when I think of them. They're happy together in peace and I know they're probably watching over us. You might not believe this, Daddy, but I think that they watch over you especially. You were just as much a son to them as I'm a daughter to you. Slap me for this later, but I believe that they loved you in their own way. After all, hurt people do hurt people.**_

"I do that everyday since I found out about-," She shook the thought away. "Put my husband inside, Ivan. Start the car while you're at it. It's a long ride. We need to get him home."

As it was opened, Mrs. Evans reached inside the vehicle and brought out a stunning floral bouquet. "Fikolai-,"

"_Nikolai_."

"Same difference!" Mint green orbs rolled then softened. "I want you to go up there and give these to her. Be back in five minutes."

The foreign man nodded, took the item, and left. Everything was so confusing nowadays in this country. Nikolai walked faster up the hill. It was times like these that he wished he was back in Russia, where the world was cold yet made sense.

_**My friends were fabulous, weren't they? We stayed up all night laughing, wore fantastic clothes, annoyed the professors, and crashed all the House parties. Sometimes, a prank would be thrown in here and there. I guess James and his friends were the male versions of us…the snobby ignorant prick version. He constantly reminds me that we were little bitches when we wanted to be, but I laugh and reply, "Carpe Diem!" I do feel sorry for the people whose feelings were really hurt though, especially poor Madeline's. All of us were so young back then.**_

There they were: two small gravestones that were planted amid the rubble of a destroyed cottage. Less than two months in age and already the stones looked worn and beaten. Weeds made their way upward, covering anything in their tangled grasp. A foot-long snake slithered across both graves in triumphant pursuit of a mouse. All was dim, murky, and dismal. _This_ was what was left of Godric's Hallow. Nikolai's smile was grim as the earlier glorified thoughts of this place exited his conscience. He had expected more…extravagance for the memorial of the most famous parents in wizarding history.

_**One day all of this sorrow will be behind us. I believe this is true whether the prophecy is fulfilled or not, whether we survive or not. Everything will work itself out. Still, I cannot help but feel that my Harry will play a great part in this war.**_

_James Charlus David Potter_

_October 1__st__ 1959 - October 31__st__ 1981_

_Loyal Friend_

_Great Protector_

_Loving Husband & Father_

_Your heroic deeds will always be remembered._

Out of respect, Nikolai placed two flowers: a white rose and a pink lily.

_Lilyanna Rose Natalya Evans-Potter_

_May 9__th__ 1959 – October 31__st__ 1981_

_Beloved Friend_

_Rebellious Thinker_

_Devoted Wife & Mother_

_Your healing smile is forever engraved in our hearts._

On this stone, the man laid the rest of the bouquet of marvelous daffodils, forget-me-nots, and countless pretty pink lilies. The bodyguard grinned as he examined the last flower. Every aspect of it matched the image of the beautiful girl who thrived upon life's adventures. A finger touched one soft petal. Hopefully the child that she loved so much would possess such qualities.

After a minute of pensiveness, bright gold sparkles showered over the stones. The cracks were filled. The weeds died and shriveled into the ground. And the snake was distracted from his chase to be burned by the glowing onslaught. It seemed so much brighter. Nikolai pocketed his wand and left with a tiny nod toward the last gravestone.

"Live long, Grand Sorceress. Your work is done."

_**I really must get going. There's so much work to do! With luck, I will see you by next fall, Daddy. If I don't, try to remember your loving and grateful daughter. **_

_**Forever your flower,**_

_**Lily. **_

_**October 28, 1981.**_


	2. Chapter 1 & 2: What Happens in Paris

_**Disclaimer: This will be the one and only disclaimer for this entire story. I DO NOT own either Harry Potter characters or its plot. Above all, the original characters belong to me as well as the original plot for **__**this**__** story. **__**Please ask for permission before you borrow any of them.**_

Warnings: **AU.** Mentions of sexual behavior. Teenage humor. Mature themes. Violence in later chapters. Some foul language. Romance. Creature violence.

* * *

**Bloodlines: Heritage Year**

Chapter One & Two: What Happens in Paris

* * *

"**YOU'RE NOT TAKING HER!**" 

The little girl's cries grew louder.

Sounds of clashing metal and bright lights filled her once peaceful nursery.

Muffled yells filled with pain echoed. He was pinned to a wall.

Fangs glistened.

The full moon shone.

Blood spilt.

Then, all the weeping child could hear was a siren's fading voice.

_Hush now, my baby  
Be still, love, don't cry…  
Sleep like you're rocked by the stream  
Sleep and remember this river lullaby-  
_

"**ARMANIUS BANISE!"**

_And I'll be with you when you dream…_

"_**NO LILY!"**_

* * *

_Dear Diary,_

_Happy Birthday to me! Happy Birthday to me! Happy Birthday, dear Lilyanna! Happy Birthday to me! Or, as they say in France, __Joyeux Anniversaire__…well, I think that's what they say. Maybe I should've paid more attention to McGonagall when she gave those French lessons last year instead of sleeping. Boy, did she give me a detention after that! I had to write 400 times: __I will neither sleep in class nor blow Drooble's Best Blowing Blue Gum bubbles into my fellow classmate's hair. __But, it was totally worth it. I think it took that forever-primping bitchy Madeline vonArrow a week to get all of it out of her (quote, unquote) "silky golden locks"._ _My arse! The only thing golden about "Martyr Maddie" is her spray-tan. We'll talk more about that later. Actually…let's not. _

_Yes diary, the Evans have landed in Paris! We make quite the party. At least that's what mother says before she flies off into some one-word named boutique. Petunia makes sure to follow her around everywhere and, lately, has __always__ been agreeing with her on every- bloody-thing! It's so annoying. Mother could say, "I think burning the Eiffel Tower to the ground would be quite a knee-slapper right about now! Don't you think?" And Petunia would probably say something like, "Ooooooooooooh, of course mummy-dearest! Can I help you carry the TNT?" Don't think I'm joking diary! It's the truth! You're only lucky that you don't have to __hear__ Petunia's voice. When we were younger, it sounded really sweet. Now, it's a mix between an organ grinder's monkey and nails on a chalkboard. I SWEAR, we're only related through genetics. Funny thing is we don't even look alike! She's a horse. I'm a human being. _

_Daddy, of course, is always there to stop things from going too far. It's his gender role in a family of women. What would we do without him? _

_I guess I shouldn't complain. (Like that'll stop me.) What other teenage girls get to spend their 16th birthday in Par-ee? Well…I suppose Parisian teenage girls, but they don't count. This is my day and Dad is finally letting me go off on my own! Party! Hah! Before I left, I asked the woman who runs the bed-and-breakfast we're staying at if she knew any good pick-up lines. The look she gave me was hilarious and rather stuck-up. Oh well, I don't even remember half of what she said. It was __all__ and I mean __all__ in rapid French. Mum and Petunia know enough French to fill their size zero pockets. But, Dad's pretty fluent. He always changes the subject when I ask where he learned it from. __Strange_

_Want to hear something really unusual? I had that dream again last night! Yes, __that__ dream and for the hundredth time! Yet, what was different was that I actually remember what happens. There was a woman singing to a child, this shadowy figure that seems to be helping her, and some other man. He's always the last to walk into the room and it's never a pleasant reunion. All I see next is the shadow pouncing on him…then I hear someone yelling my name. Interesting? Yes. Très chic? Definitely not. _

_Oh well. All I can do is relax and enjoy Paris!_

"_**FREAK!!!!!! It's time to gooooooooo!"**_

_Agh! There's banshee flower now! How did the City of Lights suddenly become so dim?_

_Forever Your Flower,_

* * *

"Do you have everything?" 

"…Yes, daddy."

"You sound hesitant. Are you sure? What about your Metro pass?"

"_Yes, daddy_."

"Keys? Money? Guidebook?"

"Triple yes, dad. Look I'll be back by-,"

"7 o'clock tonight."

"What?!! That's not fair; I'm sixteen not **seven**!"

Sometimes, Lilyanna Evans wondered if her father would ever make it through his you're-still-my-little-girl phase. What respectable adolescent has a seven o'clock curfew?! It was like not seeing white on rice, Fred without Ginger, or London without Big Ben! It simply wasn't natural. Teenage girls like her needed to be out about town exploring new sights, flirting with cute blokes, hanging out with friends, and spreading their wings. But, her daddy, _like always_, never got the memo. He was acting particularly protective this afternoon. Maybe her ponytail reminded him of the curly pigtails she wore when she was six and stupid?

"Then, it looks like you'll be staying here with me."

"_Are you kidding?! _Daddy, it's too bloody hot…I bet if you cracked an egg on the pavement; it would _boil_!! Like my flesh is doing right now!"

Mr. Evans' eyes crinkled the way they always did when he stared at his daughter in disapproval. He'd brought his whole family to Paris with him while he attended a medical conference on genetics. He planned several hours of family bonding time. Mr. and Mrs. Evans were spending their vacation in Paris in pairs. Yesterday, he'd spent the day with his older daughter Petunia. Lily was his youngest and most free-spirited. Lately, it appeared as though nothing could put her in a good mood. Being a doctor, at first he tried to chalk it up to hormones. But, this was getting ridiculous. Lily'd been sulking and whining about going out on her own all day.

"Will anything put you in a better mood?"

"Yeah. Freedom."

"Other people have it worse off than you, darling," sighed Mr. Evans as he gazed up at the blazing blue sky. Mouthing words, it seemed as if Mr. Evans was praying for some great divine solution to teenage girls. A strong breath of wind blew across the 7th arrondissement. Pedestrians exhaled before muttering their relief in French. The great City of Lights was suffering a terrible heat stroke. Scorching hot temperatures were recorded throughout Western Europe and expected to rise. The weather was dreadful and almost a cruel unusual punishment, especially when you were standing in a never-ending queue to the famous Louvre Museum.

Lilly glared at her father in annoyance before turning it toward a young lad who happened to be inching toward her purse. "_Come any closer and you'll feel what it's like to end up in blood pudding!_"

Usually, her insults were far wittier and held no cannibalism. Today was just an exception. Lily had been having bizarre dreams for the last few nights…ever since she'd returned from school. In each dream, she heard a beautiful woman singing a spooky lullaby. There was always this shadowy figure next to her…a violent one. Whenever that poor man came into the room, the shadow would pounce on him…devour him whole. Lily shuddered. She could never see any of their faces. Yet last night, on the eve of her 16th birthday, the dream had been a whole lot clearer leaving Lily with frustration, irritability, and physical aching.

**Everything hurt**.

"Dad, can I _please_ just go across the street? What's the point of keeping me a prisoner in **Paris**?"

"You have no idea what it's like to be a prisoner, Lilyanna Evans. Quit your whining."

She winced. He used her full first **and** last name. That was always the final warning. Deciding to keep quiet, Lily analyzed the street up then down in yearning. Even back home in London, she was never allowed to go anywhere! Was there a point in going on vacation?

"'Excusez-moi, monsieur? Etes-vous appelé par le nom de Dmitri Evans?"

The inquirer was the almost pickpocket. He was rather short with a red face and spoke with a rough accent. The boy stared up at Mr. Evans expectantly. Lily was certain by the glint in his dark eye, he already knew the answer. She watched her father straighten stiffly.

"Oui, je le suis. Comment peux-je vous aider?" responded the doctor. It happened in an instant. One moment the boy was standing in from of them. The next he pulled her father roughly down by the collar to his eye level.

Lily gasped in outrage. "Oy! Let go of my dad before I curse your balls inside out!"

The mysterious lad raised an eyebrow. "Curse me? Whatever do you mean, princess?"

So, he spoke English, huh? Lily growled angrily before flipping her red curls over her shoulder in contempt. To add to the effect, she made sure to give her best "asshole aristocrat" scowl. This only seemed to amuse the stranger even more. She stared down her nose at him. If she could fulfill both threats in public…

You have to understand that Lilyanna Evans was a witch. She was the wand-waving, spell-casting, broom-riding…well sorta, magical kind of witch. She went to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Before the acceptance letter came at age eleven, weird accidents frequently occurred. One time in grammar school Lily turned her least favorite teacher's hair electric blue. Then, another time when she was running from bullies trying to steal her lunch, she popped up in the cafeteria next to protective Headmistress Agatha. Weird things like that. When the messenger owl finally brought the answer, Lily wasn't too surprised. Now, five years later, the redhead would be attending her 6th year at beloved Hogwarts.

"Let him go!"

Magic was forbidden to be cast in front of muggles or non-magical folk. Lily attempted to make a grab at her father. "Stay out of this!" warned Mr. Evans. He focused his cobalt blue gaze on the other man. "Quel est votre message, monsieur?"

"C'est le temps pour payer vos péchés, votre traitre. Nous regardons. **We are near.****"**

The boy's smirk became so sinister with malice that the redhead trembled. She chastised herself. She was a Gryffindor! Lions don't cower during the heat of the moment…despite these mental repercussions; she could force neither her sore arms nor mouth to move.

"**We are near,**" he repeated in English. "**We are watching. **

**And Master is coming for you. Your flight has ****ended**"

In that instant, he was gone! There was neither fleeing nor shoving. No gigantic light that swallowed him whole or crack of lightening. He was just gone…there wasn't even a "pop"! The pickpocket had literally disappeared into thin air. Lily's eyes blinked in amazement. Even with apparition…she didn't know of any transportation…especially without a sound! Impossible! Yet, bystanders in line seem to have neither noticed the assault nor mysterious exit or entrance. Strange.

"Daddy, what's going on-,"

"Lily," Mr. Evans fixed his tie with a nonchalant expression. His hands were shaking. "I think you should go back to the inn now."

"Bloody He-,"

"**Lilyanna**."

She huffed. "Please tell me you don't believe that thief, do you? It was probably just some practical joke or he thought you were someone el-,"

"Darling, I really want you to go back now. Here. I'll catch a cab for you."

"But you promised-,"

Mr. Evans roughly pulled his daughter's arm toward the curb before waving his own. "Of course, yes, but that was before…"

"Before what? It's my sixteenth birthday! We were going to spend the day together, remember?"

Cobalt orbs darkened. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"_Why?_" cried Lily in frustration.

"Because you're in such a vexing mood! You're in no good humor to take anywhere today."

"I have plenty of good humor!"

"No you don't!" Mr. Evans' eyes met his daughter's. Lily was taken aback by the mixture of raw emotion in her father's cobalt eyes. Confusion, Determination, Fear, Sadness, Anger. She'd never seen him look like that. Though he might've been dressed in his normal pressed shirt and pants attire, Lily felt as if she was viewing a whole different person. Where was Dmitri Evans? Her loving father disappeared when he began to scan the streets as if looking for a criminal from a wanted poster.

"Darling, I promise we'll celebrate your birthday when I go back to the inn. I need to take care of some business. I'll even let you drink scotch."

Scotch…it wasn't a promise-it was just an excuse to get rid of her! Lily felt tears prickle before hurriedly wiping them away. Piggyback rides, playpens, and even shopping trips through consignment booths. They used to do everything together until he accepted that stupid administrator's job at the hospital. Now, they couldn't even stand in line without pushing each other's buttons. Lily realized she must've been a disappointment. Her older sister Petunia might be a banshee, but she wasn't near as flighty at sixteen. Mrs. Evans, even though Lily didn't see too much of her, was polite when she wasn't in a fit. Both could at least pretend to be dour or sweet. Fiery Lily could only explode. She was a daughter whose father didn't want to take her anywhere in Paris-much less back home in London.

"Here. You've always admired it. Why don't you wear my ring for safe-keeping? It'll bring you good luck being the person you are."

Lily's right hand felt lame as her father slipped the bejeweled object on. Forgetting the years of candid awe, she decided that instant the ring was terribly tacky. Before she'd wanted it but now it simply weighed her down. The ring was a glistening, despicable thing of blazing emeralds and sapphires around a gold band. The single remarkable quality about the piece was the tiny crest of a dark lunging wolf with little emeralds for eyes. Lily sneered ignoring the bubbling feeling of comfort within her chest.

_Ugly._

"Don't you look beautiful… sixteen already …"

Mr. Evans gasped his daughter's hand and then cupped her left cheek as though quietly bidding a final farewell. A cab pulled up behind them. A miracle for there was few in Paris. "I'll see you soon, sweet pea."

Lily tried to not have him notice the pooling tears as she was pushed into the backseat. While Mr. Evans whispered directions in French to the driver, the redhead wiped her emerald green eyes, thinking of the wickedest thing to say for a distraction. She grasped the door before it closed.

"You know," whispered Lily, staring into her father's eyes, "sometimes I wish you would just _disappear_."

He grinned forlornly. "Be careful what you wish for. It's rather dangerous for you."

The cab's engine revved, took a right, and vanished around the corner. Lily didn't even bother to return his wave good-bye. He would come home tonight as usual; she could apologize later. Until then, the redhead would have to fight the aching in her womb and ignore his last words.

* * *

Life couldn't get any better for Madeline Stephanie vonArrow. First of all, she was in Paris! Très magnifique! _Everything_ was beautiful! The lights were beautiful. The landmarks were beautiful. The streets, filled to the brim with bustling carriages, were beautiful. The people were beautiful. But, most importantly, _she_, Maddie vonArrow was gorgeous. The beautiful mark was passed a long time ago. She had proof as well. For three years running, she'd been voted the Daily Prophet's _Most Stunning English Beauty._ Men ogled at her hour-glass figure, full bosom, and the plunging necklines of her tailor-made gowns. Women sputtered jealous remarks behind fluttering fans as she stole their husbands and brothers' hearts. They only grew louder as Miss vonArrow spilled expensive champagne on their exported Persian rugs. That was her signature. And, Maddie left her signature inside the finest households in wizarding Britain. Pureblood households. 

Pureblood families, like the vonArrows, had existed for centuries. Except for the rare few, all of them accumulated their vast fortunes of gold Galleons into financial bliss. Maddie's father, George vonArrow, owned the Silver Arrow broomstick factories. The chain produced top-quality racing broomsticks with maximum speeds up to 70 miles per hour. Every decent wizard desired one, which meant one thing for the vonArrows: money and _lots_ of it. Besides their ancestral home in Wiltshire, they owned a residence in the Netherlands, Belgium, and of course Paris. Yet Maddie was not at the boring vonArrow fifteen-room apartment complex that held her own private suite. No, she was staying with the Potters in their fashionable first arrondissement mansion.

"Excuse me, missus. Master and Mistress were wondering if missus will come down for breakfast."

It was a servant. A house-elf to be more specific. With big tennis ball-shaped eyes, wrinkly brown skin and gigantic nose, the tiny creature wore a tea cozy with the Potter lion crest on the front. Maddie sniffed in approval. This one spoke proper English. Not that squeaky nonsense you hear from the Hogwarts kitchen elves.

"Very well. Let's proceed, shall we?" That was an order.

While the pathetic servant ran off whimpering, Miss vonArrow rose daintily from her vanity table. She beamed at perfection in the mirror. Her reflection. Straightening her ivory tea-length skirt, Maddie tossed herself a wink. She always looked like an angel in white from what her admirers gushed. The fine satin day gown was trimmed in multiple rows of delicate knife pleats. Large dangling pearl bead decorations sat on the bodice's shirred side opening. Her silky golden locks grew longer, paler over the summer. Her golden skin appeared unbelievably real and those blue eyes of hers (gorgeous!) were glowing more coyly than ever! She was the epitome of a pureblood society witch-in-training.

Grabbing an embroidered fan, Madeline exited the guest bedroom then made way gracefully down the marble staircase to the veranda. Yes, _veranda_. In the wizarding world, old families generally meant old money. The Potters were an exemplar of this equation. The blonde paused, fanning herself harder at the thought of their Gringotts vault. _Gold_. The sheer volume…couldn't even be described…mountains of gold! All of them stretched from the floor to the thirty-foot ceiling in pillars! Of course, there were copper Knuts and silver Sickles but the gold outbalanced them by thousands. Rumor said the Potters' India vault was even larger! Maddie regained her regal composure whilst trying to hide her excitement. Soon, if everything went according to plan, those vaults for her would go from UnPlottable to all-access!

"Madeline, darling, don't you look…dressed up…"

She plastered her most dazzling grin. "Thank you, my lady! I'm happy to say the same for you."

Lady Dorea Elaine Potter, The Countess of Elysian, was old in wizarding standards. Peculiarly enough, she was still a wispy, ethereal witch. You could also notice the sparks of ginger within the grey of her hair. Defined wrinkles were more evident when she smiled in that tired sort of way. Despite her husband's magnificent fortune, Mrs. Potter dressed rather plain. Today she wore a simple silk blue day gown with pearls that complimented her enormous hazel eyes.

"You flatter me," replied Mrs. Potter robotically, "Please sit down."

Maddie waited for the house-elf to pull out the offered chair before descending onto it. The blonde sat with a smiling princess's posture. Inside, she was seething. She'd put much work into her appearance this morning and all she got was a lousy "dressed up"! What happened to _spectacular_, _marvelous_, or _beautiful beyond imagination_?!

"Miss vonArrow, how is your family faring in this terrible heat?"

"Well enough, good sir. Mother sent me an owl last night. She said that the apartment is much cooler now thanks to the cooling charms you taught the house-elves. They were quite brilliant, sir!"

Lord Charlus Harold Potter, The Earl of Elysian, rumbled in content while flipping through _Le Messager Magique_-wizarding France's version of the Daily Prophet. It hadn't taken Madeline long to discover that Mr. Potter loved complements. His bespectacled violet eyes read through the French script without confusion. He was a genius notwithstanding celebrity in the Wizarding World. Mr. Potter had been the top Auror of his generation, successfully helping Albus Dumbledore bring down Grindelwald during Wizard World War I (WWWI). In his old age, he was still considered one of the most handsome men in England with his messy charcoal grey hair, strong voice, and wiry build. Unlike Mrs. Potter, Mr. Potter was dressed head to toe in top-of-the-line Gladrags navy blue robes and posh dragon-hide boots.

"Please call me Charlus. All of James' other friends do."

"Oh, Lord Potter, I couldn't! It would be too improper-,"

"Bustling Boggarts! We're on vacation Miss vonArrow," His eyes twinkled merrily. "No one is calling you to stand on ceremony."

The blonde's shoulders lifted in triumph. "Thank you…Charlus." Madeline glanced toward Lady Potter expectantly. She was stirring her tea daintily with a tiny silver spoon. Once done with that, the nonchalant wife reached for the weather pages of Le Messager Magique. Lady Potter preferred to read about the weather rather than discuss it. As a matter of fact, the older witch seldom discussed anything. At balls, she merely sat in the corner reading dusty novels instead of dancing or adding to the latest gossip.

Madeline frowned. She despised oddballs. They were just so…odd.

"Reading? Puh! I can't think of a more absurd way for a witch of your class to spend her time! It only leads to worse, I tell you. Better watch yourself Dorea or you'll end up thinking like those **unmarried** feminist writers from Witches Weekly! Can you imagine?" chastised scandalized Mr. Potter.

His wife smiled thinly. "There's no need to worry, dear. I read romance or mystery novels. Nothing too-,"

"That's how it starts! Listen Dorea, I only want what's best for you. An honorable lady of your age needn't stress herself with thinking so deeply. Leave that to the men." He patted her on the knee. "And it wouldn't hurt for you to be more sociable. Here's an idea: I'll schedule an appointment for you with Countess Yaxley! She's an amiable sort. Don't you agree, Maddie?"

"Oh, yes! My mother and she are the best of friends!"

The older witch stood abruptly. When she faced the blonde, her tone was ice. "Well, that's all dandy for _your_ mother_, isn't it_? However, I'm afraid, dear husband, that the Countess is on vacation in Monte Carlo at the moment and unavailable for your call. Now, if you'll excuse me, I will retire to my room for rest. All of that bothersome reading must be catching up to me…"

Keeping a stony gaze on Maddie, Lady Potter left the veranda at a swift, elegant pace. The blonde glared at her back, muttering a curse behind the embroidered fan. That nasty spinster! One day…urgh! No matter what she did, that horrible woman would forever hate her. And for no reason either! Mother was right. Dorea Elaine Potter was a witch whom didn't deserve the privilege of being noble or pureblood!

"Please forgive my wife, Miss vonArrow. She has been having temper tantrums for the past while. I can't see why…perhaps I should arrange an appointment with our family physician. Right now, only our James can cure her of illness."

Forgetting her anger, Madeline spread jelly across her toast. "I'm sure that would be best for my lady. Dear Mrs. Potter…I _do_ worry about her so sometimes. You can imagine how relieved I am to hear that James is an aid. He does possess such fine charm."

"Why yes, he does. Gets it from his old man!" Charlus brightened up instantly. "We'll be meeting him and the boys in _Allée Impériale_ after breakfast."

The blonde quelled her excitement. Allée Impériale was the most opulent shopping center in wizarding Paris! Mrs. vonArrow, Madeline's mother, ordered her wardrobe from its fashion houses every season. All of the shops were glamorous, ridiculously expensive, and highly selective of their consumer market. For Madeline vonArrow, to be seen perusing Allée Impériale was to _be_ seen.

"Is James preparing for school?"

"No. No. James is preparing for the Quidditch season. He is Gryffindor Captain this year. Heh…just like his old man…" Mr. Potter rambled off into a proud chuckle. His mustache twitched as he reopened the French news journal. The teenage heiress sipped her tea in near sluggish delight. Yep! Today was going to be absolutely marve-,

Suddenly, the elder wizard spit out his brandy with a cursing gasp. Pushing away the army of house-elves that tried to paw his costly robes clean, he attempted to keep calm. Maddie, however, noticed that Mr. Potter's face had turned a ghastly shade of white. He averted his eyes from her.

"Um, Charl-,"

"Excuse me. It'll take but a moment. Must contact _Ministre_ Duclaires to confirm a meeting."

With that, the ex-Auror bowed and swept off the veranda. The blonde blinked stupidly at the house-elves whom in turn blinked stupidly back at her. _Merlin's fingers…_what was the rush about? Maddie picked up the discarded Le Messager Magique and read:

**Russian Messenger Visits the Ministère: Possible Threat? **

_The English, French, German, and Italian wizarding monarchies have been disbanded or completely decimated by either the rapid revolutions of the 1800's or the Grindelwald Conflict. Though many aristocratic individuals still keep their titles, thrones have been replaced by democracies and authoritative Ministries of Magic. "Today's time could not handle a monarchy," advises Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. "Our views are constantly changing, conflicting. Everyone wants their fair share of the game, especially our radical youth. As history has proven, monarchies inevitably lead to misfortune for the common people."_ _Wizards from every corner of Europe agree with this sentiment. However, the exceptions can be found in Russia. The Imperial Empire of Wizarding Russia to be specific._

_Yesterday morning at around 9 o'clock, an anonymous stranger mysteriously appeared in the atrium of Le Ministère de France. Witnesses say the male intruder can be described as short with pale blonde hair and amazingly blood red eyes. "I'll never forget those eyes," claims Andre Chalmers, Department of International Magical Relations. "Gave me shivers. He was wearing the IEWR emblem on his front jacket; I recognized it from my travels abroad. The boy didn't do anything bad, mind you. Not a spell or anything. He just stood and knocked on the Ministre's door until it opened." Officials report that the envoy left about twenty minutes later._

_Should France and the International Confederation of Wizardry prepare for war? Le Ministre Duclaires doesn't believe so. "It was merely a diplomatic inquiry. The Russians aren't concerned with conquering France that I can assure you. The Grindelwald Conflict in Germany has taught us all a lesson in military greediness. People are getting worried over the smallest of inconveniences. France is alive and thriving. Let us enjoy her beauty." However, Le Ministre and his Council refused to expend upon what exactly happened behind his office door. Opponents of Duclaires claim that he is far too trusting. An anonymous wizard believes that our Ministre has become blinded by peace. _

_Russia is one-sixths of the Earth's landmasses. Tsar/Emperor Vladimir I of the Romankov Dynasty has been ruling for the past forty-three years and will soon be reaching his 81__st__ birthday. Much of Wizarding Europe's platinum, lumber, and oil are shipped from Russia to our local businesses and homes. During the past wars against the IEWR, the empire has sent Nogtails and vicious Pogrebin to curse enemy lands. Tensions are high after the Grindelwald Conflict and war is definitely not a fair option for France. This diplomatic inquiry-,_

"Oh, gag me!"

An irritated Madeline vonArrow ripped the article clean in half. She had more important things to worry about like the Sanguis Ball, what to wear to the Sanguis Ball, how to fix her hair for the Sanguis Ball…argh! Who cared about some wacko Russian crisis?! The blonde abandoned all protocol as she slinked lazily down in her seat. Her father expected her to look her absolute best for this party. It was totally exclusive and invitations were sent only to those of the most prestigious, Maddie smirked, _bloodlines_.

Special bloodlines, to be exact. She beckoned a frightful house-elf over while chuckling madly. Not even the Potters would be invited. Never mind the hoi polloi or nouveau riche.

"I want veal."

"Right away, mis-,"

"Let me finish! I want veal with extra garlic sauce and a side of pumpkin juice that better taste like it came straight from the patch…or else…" Madeline gave a wide grin.

The tiny creature squeaked as she covered her wide pregnant belly in terror. "O-of course!"

"Oh, make that veal rare, would you? I haven't eaten anything rare in a long time. I'm simply craving it."

The elf soon disappeared with a loud "POP" and terrible queasiness.

Maddie kept grinning while flipping through the society pages of Le Messager Magique. Normally, she was above cannablistic threats but today could be an exception. The blonde sighed in bliss as she noted the large picture of a champagne stain on a fine Persian rug. Colette's party had been fantastic, but her brother had been even better.

"What happens in Paris stays in Paris," giggled the pureblood heiress.

Life, for a vonArrow, was just too perfect for words.

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO**

"**Père céleste!"**

"**Que sur la terre?!"**

"**Est-elle vivante? Impossible!" **

Pain in life was like an opening door. You could easily run through or have it slam in your face just before you cross the threshold. Every human being born had felt some kind of pain, whether emotional or physical. A broken leg. Pain. Skinned knees. Pain. A broken heart. Terrible Pain. It was inevitable. That's what her father always said. And he was a doctor. There are only a rare few in the world that don't experience pain. The paralyzed…holders of a freaky ultra-rare disease…and corpses. Lily was none of the above. Well, she didn't think she was dead. _No._ Her green eyes were wide, moving, and observing her surroundings. But, a maddening little voice in the back of Lily's mind was whispering naughtily that she should've been dead.

After all, who _survives_ jumping out of a cab during a traffic jam only to be hit by another?

"**Déshonorer. ..elle était une jolie fille."**

"**Non, regarder! Elle se déplace!**"

The crowd was thickening. Lily felt oxygen tighten in her lungs as it became harder to breathe. All of these people…she didn't know any of them! Garbled French passed into one ear and out the other. The witch thought of how she should've paid more attention to McGonagall's French lessons. Why couldn't she move?! Maybe Lily was paralyzed. No. She could still feel her wilds gasps of breath, constantly aching muscles, and the blood rushing throughout her veins. Yes, Lily could hear the curious pedestrians, too. She wasn't paralyzed. Just strangely overwhelmed and…frozen.

"_Elle n'est pas morte. S'il vous plaît nous excuser."_

Now that voice sounded familiar. Well, Lily hoped it did because the owner of that elderly voice picked her up by the waist. He (the tone was deep enough to be a _he_) threw Lily's left arm over his bony shoulder. The man spoke more soothing French upon the worried crowd. A dazed Lily managed to pick out the words "friend" and "hospital". Hmm…a hospital…that's where her father worked at in London…her stomach lurched unpleasantly. She was too angry (and unwell) to risk the chance at meeting her overprotective father so soon. Especially after what she'd said to him-

_Be careful what you wish for…_

Lily shook away the onslaught of guilty nausea. "N-no hospital. I-I-I'm fine." God, she sounded so pathetic! She felt pathetic, too.

"_Vous remercier tout pour votre considération. Nous partirons maintenant_. Come along, Miss Evans."

The crowd parted for the two. As they walked, Lily noticed they were going in the direction of a local hospital. Damn. Her dad wouldn't be happy to learn his daughter had almost killed herself. Bloody hell! There goes her birthday party…you know turning sixteen was supposed to be the best for young witches. Sixteen was the age of freedom in the wizarding world. You were allowed to complete your apparition license, perform complex magic, and beheld as a responsible teenager. Actually, most witches became engaged on their 16th birthday. Lily coughed. Thank God for being muggle-born! She couldn't even imagine a ring on her finger now, much less a fiancé.

"Ah! Here we are, _La Toile de la Veuve! _Better known to us British folk as The Widow's Web._"_

Lily's eyes brightened. Her "savior" had taken them down so many twists and turns she didn't even know if they were in Paris anymore. Ignoring the protesting ache, the redhead looked up to see a huge statue of an ugly witch before them. The artist must've had a seriously deranged sense of humor. His masterpiece possessed only one leg, crooked teeth, scraggly hair, and…was that a mustache?

"I thought French people only liked pretty things?" inquired Lily.

The man rumbled. "They do. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Miss Evans. And, this work of art here is one of the loveliest in the land."

"Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness!"

The one-legged witch had come to life. Lily wasn't that surprised because this was the wizarding world and freakier things happened on a day-to-day basis. Like that time Peeves the Poltergeist threw hot bacon grease upon all the girls' hair during one breakfast at Hogwarts.

"My dear, I haven't blushed so much since your brother stopped by yesterday!" cried the statue in English.

He lightly frowned. "Aberforth came to Paris? I find that hard to believe. He absolutely despises traveling."

"Oh, I know. It was quite a shock for me. Haven't seen him in near fifty years! The gentleman said something about "replacing the gall bladder on Stevie goat". How pecu-,"

The old wizard released a hacking cough. "Y-yes. Yes, quite. La mouche innocente attendant l'entrée, if you please."

Her insane cackle chilled Lily to the bones. It was a high-pitched, throaty laughter similar to the kind you hear in old black-and-white horror movies.

"Now bumblebee, you know that entrance to the Black Widow is by membership on-,"

"Miss Evans here is a special guest of mine. As you may note lovely lady, she isn't feeling quite well at the moment-."

Lily winced in annoyance. Was it _that_ noticeable that she looked like shit?

"Merely taking her up to a tea room for some brandy. Surely, an empathic woman such as yourself would understand?"

The witch flirtatiously fluttered her bulging eyelashes. "Please stop! I haven't-oh my-," She snickered in embarrassment. "very well. You may take Miss Levens inside."

"It's Evans." Lily imputed.

"Whatever. Have fun…but not too much fun!" Madame Widow eyed the redhead like a dog would a nasty bone. "You know you're rather scrawny for your age. Can't your parents afford to feed you?"

Growling, sassy Lily placed a hand on her right hip. "You know…you're rather hideous for a hunk of grey marble. But I suppose your creator simply couldn't afford the time to tell you. _Poor thing_."

She spluttered in indignation. Apparently, everyone that came before Lily was too nice to inform the statue of her "unique" physical attributes.

The wizard grinned enchantingly to soothe the ruffled artwork. "No need to worry, Madame Widow. Miss Evans is a bit too young for me."

"And, with the grace of goodness, she'll learn how to treat a **real** **lady **when she gets older! No respect from the underclass these days, I tell you!"

Madame Widow turned and muttered quiet phrases of French to the brick wall behind her. Each hard cube began to move away in big then small sections. This reminded Lily an awful lot of the entrance to Diagon Alley, wizarding Britain's shopping district. Yet over there, there was no need to host annoying chitchat to get in. The guardian was merely a taciturn brick wall.

"Do enjoy yourself, bumblebee!" pardoned Madame Widow.

"I will. Thank you for your assistance."

The corrupt statue from hell (as Lily deemed it in her mind) eyed the redhead in disdain. "You behave yourself! My suggestion is you don't waste your time shopping in _Allée Impériale_. I doubt you can afford even a quill feather."

The Evans' financial situation was a rather difficult and sensitive subject. Yes, Lily knew Dior. Prada. Chanel. Gucci. She was very well acquainted with designer labels and super expensive upper-class stores like Harrods or Bergdorf Goodman's. But only during certain periods of her youth. A _H.C. Year_, as the family called them. Herbert and Cornelia Evans made their fortune on gold mines in South Africa. From there, they created a lovely jewelry shop called the Golden Lily, which was named for its intricate ring designs in the shape of the mentioned flower. Cornelia Evans birthed two children: Herbert, Jr. and Gloria Nichole. Both were sent to New York City. There they attended the best single-sex private schools, lived in the family's penthouse apartment, in addition to being flown to and from London. To make a long story short, Gloria met Lily's handsome father-a poor immigrant doctor-in-training. Fell obsessively in love. Harassed him until he agreed to marriage. Became promptly disowned. Had two daughters…blah, blah, blah.

An H.C. year was when ol' Herbert and Cornelia appeared out-of-nowhere, lavished their poor pitiful granddaughters for about a month, and then randomly disappear again with an upturned nose for two or three more years. With them went the Prada. Dior. Gucci. Chanel.

Lily held back a laugh. The upturned nose had something to do with Dmitri Evans' detestation, which was very much returned. Whenever they sent a large "pity check", as he called them, the doctor would tear it to shreds replying he could provide for his family well enough, thank you. The one thing he did allow them to pay for was a good chunk of Lily's expensive Hogwarts tuition to "shut them up".

"Are you going to stand there all day Miss Livens or go in? Not all of us have time for barbarism."

The redhead growled once more before attempting to lunge at the snobbish figurine. Realizing that Madame Widow's point was being proved, her eyes instead settled into an ominous green glower. The ache in her stomach paused for a brief moment.

"_**Do us all a favor and just blow yourself up, you bloody bitch!!**__"_

Taking pleasure in Madame Widow's revolted gasp, Lily let herself be steered by the mysterious wizard inside. The interior was a totally different spectrum from its marble bouncer. Every item could be described as luxuriously chic from the white leather couches to the diamond-encrusted fireplace mantle. Lily spotted out famous and insanely opulent (not to mention infamous) people that she'd seen pictured in the Daily Prophet or Witches Weekly gossiping. This was where the wizarding gods of celebrity moreover heroism converged in Paris. This was where a clientele of Europe's most beautiful, envied, notorious, and all-powerful magical citizens christened it to be their watering hole. To maintain the super-exclusivity, they paid exorbitant membership fees for the privilege of entrance and to keep out the common herd. On each wall, a dark spider made of onyx with a ruby hour-glass on its abdomen crawled up then down in a creepy parade.

This was the Black Widow-a place where Lily definitely didn't belong.

"Ah! We'll take those seats over by the window," replied her companion to a neatly dressed waiter. "A barbotage for the lady-,"

The redhead asked in excitement, "What's that?"

"_Quiet. _I'll have a Firewhiskey, if you please."

"Right away, sir."

The window seat was actually two ornate throne-like chairs facing toward each other against a large pane of velvet-stained glass. The wizard removed his wand and utilized a nifty charm that pulled the young witch's seat out. After gently placing her in it, he sat down opposite from her.

Lily grinned at her savior. Her guess had been proven correct. "Hello, Professor Dumbledore."

Professor Dumbledore, though old, constantly radiated an impression of great energy. He had several feet of long silver hair and beard, half-moon spectacles, and an exceedingly crooked nose. His blue eyes were light and sparkling bright. The purple robes he'd adorned were swept the ground alongside his buckled boots. He was often described as the greatest warlock of the era because he defeated the Dark Wizard Grindelwald. Today, Dumbledore was considered the best Headmaster Hogwarts ever had. You just couldn't help trusting him. He radiated an aura of grandfatherly security.

"Good afternoon, Miss Evans. Care for a lemon drop? A muggle sweet, you know. I find them quite delightful." The silver-haired wizard beamed cheerfully.

"Um, no thanks," declined Lily. She found it bizarre that a pureblood champion like Dumbledore ate muggle candy.

_Though not as bizarre as jumping out of cab for no bloody reason, eh?_

_**Shut up!**_

Great. Hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, even in the wizarding world.

"Well, Miss Evans-,"

"Call me Lily."

He appeared rather flummoxed. It felt unusual to see bewilderment on wise Albus Dumbledore's wrinkled countenance.

"We're on summer vacation. And I don't feel like sticking to the obnoxious pomp we girls have to learn in class," explained Lily. "No offense. But, it's all dreadfully dull."

Their drinks arrived on a floating silver platter. As the headmaster reached to hand Lily hers, she promptly took it off, inserted a straw, and began to sip. Barbotage, whatever it was, wasn't that bad.

"Besides…I've been at Hogwarts for five years now. I don't see a reason why we can't drop the formalities."

The redhead flinched, cursing her uncontrollably rebellious tongue. It always got her in trouble at school with Professor McGonagall and the other Gryffindors. Not to mention Slytherins…Ravenclaws…Huffle-okay! It got her in trouble with everyone! But, she couldn't help that she'd been raised in the muggle world-where girls were allowed to attend university, speak their mind, and hold worthwhile jobs. Whenever Lily voiced these ideals, the witch was almost always sent to the library to copy line after line of 18th century poetry. Few other muggle-born or half-blood witches and wizards ever joined her.

Instead of scolding, however, Dumbledore threw back his head and laughed. Not in a mocking way, though. He sounded pleasantly surprised.

The teenager blinked. This was new.

"Very well then, Miss Lily. The pomp shall be dropped!" He chuckled at his near-rhyme.

"Tell me, Lily, the way you express yourself…do your parents ever hear you talk this way?"

"Hmph. They don't listen to me much because they say I complain too much. Specially lately."

"May I ask why lately?"

She wiggled in her cushiony seat. "Just a few aches that's all."

"Women's trouble?"

"No, this is different. Anyway," Lily decided to change the subject. "You can't tell them I was here with you. They mustn't know. Daddy says going out distracts one from more important matters."

The headmaster raised a silver eyebrow. "What's wrong with being with me?"

"Nothing! Nothing! It's more of being _here_. I told you this isn't an important matter! Come to think of it; we don't go out at all really."

"And why?"

Lily shrugged before tossing a wink. "I don't remember all the excuses Dad gives by heart."

_Interesting_. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he leaned forward in his seat. The recollection of an awkward eleven-year old entered his mind. It had been the annual Sorting of 1969. The end of a decade. The child stood out with her messy naturally red curls and untied boot laces that dragged across the Great Hall. Her uniform skirt was wrinkled. The shirt was on backwards. She slid her feet instead of regally shuffling like the other little girls. You could tell by her bent posture, skipping gait, and the brightness in her eyes that the girl was well meaning, but tended to let enthusiasm get the best of her. It was also proven, just before the Sorting Hat touched her head, that she can become quite fiery. A mischievous black-haired boy had been bouncing around a Quaffle brought from home. It'd "accidentally" hit the lass for about the second time when she turned around with blazing green orbs. "**Stop throwing around that ****damned ****ball like you have no sense!**"

Though her squeaky voice lessened the effect of the curse word, the boy indeed stopped.

Lilyanna Evans was the first and only first-year to have ever received a detention on Sorting Night.

A chortling Dumbledore took a small gulp of burning Firewhiskey. "Miss Evans-,"

"_Lily_."

"_Lily_," he agreed, "Let's get back to those aches of yours. Do they have something to do with our earlier taxi incident?"

"…I'm not sure."

The ice in her drink was melting. The witch took out the cubes, placing them on a napkin. How could she answer that? Lily didn't even know why she'd jumped out. It wasn't like she was suicidal or anything. Death, or the prospect of dying, frightened her. To know that one ill day she would stop breathing...turn cold…become worm food in the ground...Lily gulped down the barbotage. Her stomach grumbled. Now she was hungry.

"Professor," breathed Lily, "weird things have been happening to me. Specially today. It's my 16th birthday-,"

"Good for you! Happy Birthday!"

She exhaled. "Thanks. It's so bizarre. I've grown like five inches over a week! None of my clothes fit me anymore because my weight keeps fluctuating like crazy. And, I've been so hungry lately! I eat and eat and eat, but I don't gain an ounce. I'm craving something but I don't know exactly what. My dreams, too! Urgh! They're the worst because they make the pain keep coming back. Everywhere on my body **hurts**!"

"Specify everywhere."

"My legs, my arms, my gums, my chest, my breasts-,"

The wizarding hero blushed in embarrassment. "_Thank you!_ Thank you. I understand. Probably feels like a lesser version of the Cruciatus, eh? Tell me about your dreams."

Lily relayed about the singing woman, the dangerous pouncing shadow, and the man who fought both of them. The clashing swords. The spilt blood. The full moon. The waning howl. She told him about the crying little girl. How the three argued about not taking her away. How Lily could never see their faces even if the darkness cleared some like it did last night.

Dumbledore's lips tilted into a frown. "Who is the little girl?"

"I don't know. Sometimes I think it's me because I feel like I know those people. But, I can't recall them for the life of me!" The witch felt so pathetic. "I don't know what to do."

A wrinkly hand went to comfortingly caress her smooth one. "Life, Miss Lily, is full of unexpected events. The best we can do is expect them and respect them for what they are. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live. So with that, I want you to put these dreams out of your mind."

The advice was reassuring. Yet deep down, Lily had a feeling that getting these revelations out of her brain was easier said than done. Way easier. All she could do though was look on the bright side.

"Do you think I'll get back to normal, then?" She contemplated for a second. "Well as normal as I'm going to get?"

Not to Lily's surprise did Dumbledore laugh.

"There is no such thing as normal anymore, in my opinion." He replied. "Times are changing. Revolutions are occurring. What you or I consider normal is someone else's absurdity."

The Hogwarts Headmaster stood, cracking a few rigid old bones as he did. Emerald green orbs sparkled teasingly.

"How old are you, Professor?"

Dumbledore winked as he laid upon the table a handful of gold coins. "This is 1974. It is safe to assume I was born long before then. Take care, Miss Evans."

"You too, Professor! See ya at Hogwarts!"

Returning his pupil's energetic wave, the old wizard walked away humming toward the back exit. Toward the material haven of _Allée Impériale._

Unmistakably alone, Lily spent time observing Black Widow's sumptuous French décor. That statue was right. She didn't belong here. Lily wiped the bubbling tears in her eyes away. She didn't fit in anywhere actually. Her indecisive mother of sixteen years didn't know what to make of her. Petunia believed she was a freak because she practiced magic. At school, she was considered the class oddball notwithstanding rebel. And, as much as Lily's dad loved her, she didn't feel like going there today. Teenage girls whether witches or muggles weren't supposed to have problems like Lily's. Bloody hell!

The redhead smacked her head down on the table. _Ouch_.

"_M'excuser, mademoiselle. Peux-je vous acheter une boisson?_"

She didn't bother to glance up. "Sorry. I don't speak Fre-,"

"I asked if I may buy you something to drink."

Lily's jaw dropped in quite an unladylike fashion. She'd know that snaky, aristocratic voice anywhere! The stranger's face was pale and pointed. His silver blonde hair was tied into a ponytail at the nape of his neck by a black ribbon. He was decked out in olive green designer robes with expensive dark brown dragon-hide boots. She met an infamous pair of cold gray eyes. It was Lucius Malfoy, pureblood supremacist extraordinaire and owner of the vast Malfoy fortune.

Emerald orbs narrowed. That voice had called her "mudblood" more than enough times during their two coinciding years at Hogwarts. Didn't he recognize her?

"Miss? Please say you understand English. But, I doubt if it matters. I know Italian, German, Spanish, Dutch, Portug-,"

Lily interrupted quickly. "Nope. I'm good. Just finished off my barbotage or whatever it's called."

You'd think the gloating bastard would be clever enough to take that as a polite way of saying, "Get the hell away from me!" Instead, he slithered closer. The witch smiled uneasily, trying in vain to hide shivers. Those cold eyes were looking Lily's body up and down. _Mentally undressing her_.

Gross! She attempted to glance elsewhere, yet found other men's lustful stares were on her also. Hello…when did she turn into a veela?! Had they been doing that since she got here with Dumbledore? Some of those blokes looked older than Dumbledore! Lily made faces at them until they focused their attention back on their jealous wives or female companions. She tried to catch a glimpse of her reflection in the silver napkin holder. Besides growing taller, did she look any different from last year?

"You're in Paris for vacation." It wasn't a question. "So am I. My father is on business with the Prime Minister. His name is Abraxas Malfoy. You must be acquainted him surely. Everyone who's anyone is."

He thought she was pureblood! Was he daft?! She didn't dress or talk like one of those blubbering stuck-up porcelain dolls at school! Dolls with impeccable manners, who speak when spoken to, and tirelessly remind everyone of their high station above others…

Lily stood abruptly. Anger oozed out of each pore of her essence. "I'll be leaving now, you insufferable snake! Don't let a little "mudblood" like me ruin your precious evening!"

"What?!" Malfoy exclaimed in bewilderment. "You're a mud-,"

Out of nowhere, a loud explosion reverberated at the facade of the Black Widow. Bricks flew. Furniture flew. Even a few people flew across the room. Champagne bottles shattered in midair. Tiny poodles and crups wildly barked at the chaos. The heroes in the club rushed forward with their wands drawn. A horrible dying shriek echoed from the front. It made Lily's red hairs stand on end. Dread filled her as she followed the questioning crowd of socialites.

"**Veuve de madame!"**

"**Oh, mes cheres étoiles!"**

"**Un vestige...destroyed! Qu'est-il arrivé?"**

Lily pushed her way past a PlayWizard buddy-girl and an influential Floo factory owner to take a look at the damage. There, where the statue named Madame Widow once stood, was a pile of smoking rubble.

_Do us all a favor and just blow yourself up, you bloody bitch!!_

Her heart froze. There was no possible way…did she-

Piercing groans of pain resonated from victims that lay on the trashed ground. Lily gasped in horror as she noticed the bloodied face of a small boy. He wasn't moving.

"Call the Aurors! Call the Aurors! Get a medi-wizard pronto!" cried an attending Irishman.

A Frenchwoman called out, "Attente! Attente! Wait, mademoiselle! Wait! It might not be safe!"

She tried in vain to catch the attention of a fleeing redhead, who appeared to almost be flying rather than running. Toward _Allée Impériale. _It was if the girl was running for her life!

But, no. Lily was running from **his** words.

_Be careful what you wish for… It's rather dangerous for you…_

More like deadly.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: **See! See! I told you this version would be better. Sorry it took so long! I'm actually very content and proud of it. This new angle will give me a lot more to work with and hopefully give my characters all those delicious traits that turn them into people! TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! YES, YOU'LL SEE MORE OF THE MARUADERS. YES, THE WIZARDING WORLD IS DIFFERENT FROM THE NOVELS. **BECAUSE IT'S IN THE PAST!** PLEASE REVIEW WITH CONSTRUCTIVE CRITISISM AND COMMENTS! ALL FLAMES WILL BE **DELETED**! 

Love Ya!

YinYangDreams


	3. Chapter 3 & 4: The Sphinx's Nest

**Disclaimer: See the top of chapter 1 & 2. I don't own Harry Potter or the song "I Put a Spell on You!"**

**ATTENTION: TO ANYONE WHO'S INTERESTED, I AM LOOKING FOR A BETA READER FOR THIS STORY. PLEASE TELL ME IN A REVIEW OR E-MAIL IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO DO SO.**

Warnings: **AU.** Mentions of sexual behavior. Teenage humor. Mature themes. Violence in later chapters. Some foul language. Romance. Creature violence.

* * *

Bloodlines: Heritage Year

Chapter Three & Four: The Sphinx's Nest

* * *

She was the warrior princess. 

Among all three of her sisters, she was the physical one. They always knew what she felt because she always displayed it. Everyone in her family knew of the temper tantrums and compassionate squeezing hugs. They were also aware of the growing spark of madness in her dark eyes. Yet, all besides a rare few ignored the signs because she still addressed them with such affection. Society regarded her as the gorgeous woman with classic good looks and regal demeanor. In their eyes, she was the woman who appeared at operas and balls only to prove she was the best out of everyone in the room, whether it be dancing or simply dripping with gems. An arrogant woman and a vivacious lady. Both a warrior and a princess of high-class. She was the girl who cursed muggles from behind the bushes and, now years later, from out in the open.

Her name was Bellatrix Black.

_I put a spell on you  
and now you're mine…  
You can't stop the things I do.  
I ain't lyyyyyin'._

_I've been gone for 300 years  
right down to the day!  
Now these witches are back to sing!  
And there's hell to pay…_

Playing on the small radio in the parlor of their Parisian apartment complex were the Wicked Witches of Canterbury- her favorite singing trio. This song was her personal anthem. Bellatrix sat lazily upon a luxurious satin chaise chewing on Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Despite the fact that her left arm and legs were splayed in un-ladylike manners, she looked as if she was a regal queen. Miss Black knew this too. You could tell by the way she glanced over a tall pile of expensive trinkets in the corner. From her suitors, of course. Bellatrix was twenty-three and at quite an agreeable age to marry. Any of the Black sisters would've been a perfect match; all of them were beautiful, tremendously wealthy, and all pure-blooded. Well…Bellatrix bit down on a bean particularly hard. All except for one of them now. _Filthy blood-traitor._

_  
I put a spell on you and now you're miiiiiine!_

_I put a spell on you and now you're gone._

_(Gone…Gone…So long!)  
My whammy fell on you and it was strong_

_(So strong…So strong…So stroooooooong!)_

Bellatrix chose to jump in on the next part. It was the absolute best. She began to chant shrilly:

_Your wretched little lives have all been cursed!  
'Cause of all the witches working…  
__**I'M-THE-WORST!**_

_**I put a spell on you and now you're miiiiiine!**_

_**(Watch out! Watch out! Watch out! Watch out!)**_

"Oh, dear Bella! You haven't resorted to karaoke again, _have you_?" inquired a soft voice. She ignored it and continued singing.

The radio cut off promptly. Bellatrix glared at her baby sister with a fierce vengeance. Narcissa, who was used to such staring, didn't flinch. Mostly, it was because she stood on the other side of the room and so impossible for her to turn the blasted song off without magic. Narcissa wrinkled her delicate nose. No young witch or wizard was allowed to perform magic during the summer until they reached seventeen. A preposterous rule if you asked her! But no matter, she could still do magic anyway because the Black family properties were so warded that the Ministry couldn't even sense a flimsy floating spell. However, she didn't have her wand on her at the moment. Narcissa showed this by spreading her pale palms flat in front of Bellatrix.

"Cissy, what in Salazar's name did you do that for?!"

"I didn't do a thing," she huffed. "My wand is upstairs on my bed."

Bellatrix raised a fine eyebrow. "I am not stupid, Cissy. These blood wards do more than just sit here for show."

"And, I am promising that I didn't take advantage of them. Besides, that song is awfully…vengeful. How about we turn to something more cheerful like the Goblin Orchestra?"

Coal dark eyes met lake blue orbs. Bellatrix and her baby sister Narcissa were like day and night in appearance. If it wasn't for the fact Cissy took after their mother's Rosier looks, one would've thought she was the product of an unscrupulous affair. All of the Blacks were notorious for their dark beauty, except for her. She possessed golden blonde locks, a pure and lovely demeanor, and a petite figure that came with being seventeen. Bella was untamed, crazed, and wickedly beautiful with aristocratic hooded-eyes in addition to a tall curvaceous frame. She was the sister that was used to being stared at by men. Bella smirked.

"Life isn't all Chocolate Frogs and rainbows. Can't I just have a moment's peace?"

Narcissa scowled. "I'm not a little girl anymore! I simply don't understand why the rest of you keep treating me so."

The older sister gave a nonchalant shrug. "You're the one who asks for yams with fudge topping."

Enjoying her sister's blush, Bella continued. "Not to mention, that everyone's already finished their schooling."

"I am going to be a 7th year! Besides, Sirius hasn't finished school either and I'm a year older than him!"

"Well, our _dear_ cousin isn't exactly part of everyone, is he?"

The blonde fidgeted uncomfortably as her older sister pulled out her wand. With a lazy flick, the radio turned back on. Exhaling in relief, Narcissa pulled up a chair beside Bella's chaise. Her sister's moods had become more erratic by the day. Just yesterday she'd cursed an innocent squirrel that she deemed "trespassing on private property" with a painful jinx. The blonde winced as she remembered how the poor creature twitched and withered on the ground. It had only been skipping across the patio…

"Here's a compromise Cissy," replied Bella off-handedly. "Celestina Warbeck. You like her, don't you?"

The tremulous sounds of the Wicked Witches of Canterbury were soon replaced by the soft lyrics of "Cauldron of Love".

_Oh, baby baby…keep stirring me so gently_

_Add a hint of you_

_Turn the fire up a notch_

_Oh, baby baby…keep stirring me so gently_

_I'm your secret recipe_

_You're batch of perfection_

_So won't you enjoy the fruits of your labor?_

_Oh, baby baby…keep stirring me so gently_

_And have a sip of my cauldron of love…_

Bella glanced at her baby sister and indeed saw the expected reaction. Her pale cheeks were now red with awkwardness at the open breach of modesty. Cissy was all about modesty. She'd gotten it from their mother: Druella. Her baby sister didn't even wear the new tea-length robes and dresses that had gone in style for her pure-blood generation. Nope. Every long-skirted garment was floor or ankle-length, and Cissy barely possessed few of the later. No, best believe those were worn only in privacy. Her slim ankles were forever covered for modesty's sake in public. Bellatrix's eyes rolled. Narcissa was such a prude!

"Perhaps we should chan-,"

"It's the only British station in this country so deal with it."

The blonde huffed. "I understand French perfectly well!"

"Cissy, you barely passed with our tutor!"

"That's because he was an ingrate whom had no business teaching!"

"Mother and I," Bella replied listlessly "passed under his tutelage with flying broomsticks. You scraped by with an Acceptable."

"That because you cheated!"

She laughed in amusement. "I could have, but I didn't have to. Cissy, don't you remember how un-ladylike it is to yell?"

Narcissa stood from her perch and elegantly stomped over to the awaiting porcelain thirteenth-century tea set. She was miffed all right. Bella knew Narcissa liked to think of herself as the epitome of etiquette. Whenever something happened that pushed her buttons, she poured someone tea whether it was her old dolls or mother and sister. Bellatrix lazily leaned back against the chaise. She spotted once again the huge eleven-carat diamond ring on her baby sister's right ring finger. It was rather hard to miss.

"Are you still excited about the engagement gala this spring?"

The blonde blushed while glancing at the brilliant gem. "Oh, of course! Lucius is such a dream. He's quite perfect, don't you think?"

Bella snatched the offered cup of tea. "No," She took a sip. "I don't."

_Oh, baby baby…keep stirring me so gently_

_And have a taste of my cauldr-,_

**WE INTERUPT THIS BROADCAST WITH A SPECIAL REPORT! THE WIZARD WIRELESS NETWORK HAS JUST RECEIVED NEWS THAT THE GUARDIAN STATUE TO THE BLACK WIDOW, **_**MADAM WIDOW**_**, HAS BEEN DESTROYED! REPEAT: THE GUARDIAN STATUE OF THE EXCLUSIVE CLUB BLACK WIDOW HAS BEEN DESTROYED BY AN UNKNOWN SOURCE! WHILE THERE ARE NO REPORTS OF CASUALITIES, OFFICIALS SAY THAT A NUMBER OF INJURIES HAVE TAKEN PLACE AT THE SCENE-,**

"Oh, how dreadful!" cried Narcissa. "Madam Widow was so kind!"

"_Hush, Cissy!!_"

**INJURIES INCLUDE BROKEN BONES, INTERNAL BLEEDINGS, AND SEVERAL CASES OF HEAD CONCUSSIONS AS SUFFERED BY VICTIMS WHO WERE CAUGHT BY DEBRIS. CURRENTLY, MINISTRY OFFICIALS ARE INVESTIGATING THE CRIME AND ARE BLOCKING OFF ENTRANCE TO…****Allée Impéria-WAIT! THIS JUST IN! ENTRANCE IS BEING ALLOWED TO BLACK WIDOW MEMBERS AS REQUESTED BY OWNER.**

"Thank Merlin! I'm so looking forward to a trip to Allée Impériale! Do you think Uncle Orion will let us take his carria-,"

"_Hush, Cissy!!_"

**MINISTRE DUCLAIRES INSISTS THAT THE INCIDENT IS MERELY AN ACCIDENT AND COINCENDENTAL WITH THE RUSSIAN INQUIRY. MANY DISAGREE. CURRENTLY, THERE IS NO WORD WHETHER THE STATUE MADAM WIDOW WILL BE REPAIRED IN SOME WAY OR REPLACED. THE LATER IS PROBABLY THE ONLY OPTION AS THE ARTWORK WAS BLOWN INTO SMITHEREENS-,**

"Hey! I was listening to that!"

Bellatrix ignored her protests. "Oh hush up, Cissy! _Uncle Orion! Aunt Walburga! Come down quickly! Something exciting has happened!_"

They were staying with their aunt, uncle, and cousins while their parents pursued a second honeymoon on the Riviera. She pierced her thin lips. The last second honeymoon Cygnus and Druella went on resulted in Andromeda. Yes, there'd originally been three Black sisters but the second had made her foolish choice. Running off and marrying a mudblood! _Filthy blood-traitor! _Bellatrix scowled angrily as she prayed that Salazar forbid her mother become impregnated with a similar waste of flesh.

Instead of hearing the graceful coinciding steps of her uncle and aunt, both Black sisters heard a bombardment of heavy pounding on the wooden stairway.

"_YOU WILL NOT BE CONSORTING WITH THAT DREADFUL POTTER SCUM, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!"_

"_**YOU CAN'T STOP ME YOU UGLY HAG! UNDERSTAND THAT!"**_

"DON'T TALK TO YOUR MOTHER THAT WAY, SIRIUS! WE RAISED YOU BETTER!"

"_**NO! YOU RAISED ME TO STICK MY NOSE IN THE AIR AND HATE PEOPLE BECAUSE OF WHO THEY WERE BORN TO!"**_

"_YOU THINK YOU'RE SO DIFFERENT, EH?! DON'T THINK I DON'T SEE THAT SMIRK ON YOUR FACE WHEN YOU TALK TO INFERIORS!"_

"_**THE ONLY BLOODY INFERIORS I SEE HERE ARE YOU AND YOUR PRAT OF A HUSBAND! YOU CAN'T POSSIBLY BE MY PARENTS! YOU DON'T EVEN TRY TO UNDERSTAND ME! YOU'RE TOO DAMN COLD-HEARTED!!!"**_

"_BLOOD-TRAITOR! SHAME OF MY FLESH! GET BACK HERE!!!!"_

"SIRIUS, LISTEN TO YOUR MO-,"

"_**SHUT THE HELL UP AND GROW SOME BALLS WHILE YOU'RE AT IT TO MATCH HERS!"**_

"_WHY YOU-,"_

The front door slammed on its hinges as Sirius Black, heir to the Black family fortune and title, stormed from the apartment. Bellatrix smirked. The possibility of that changing grew bigger with each passing day. Her cousin was becoming reckless. By spending time with blood-traitors, he dishonored the Black family motto of "Tonjours Pur" or "Always Pure". Sirius spit on their high noble values by pulling childish pranks at school and landing himself into hundreds of detentions in the process. With each loud rebellion, he lost more chance of inheriting his rightful title and the three humongous Gringotts bank vaults that went with it. It hadn't always been this way, Bella remembered all right. Sirius started off as the apple of the family's eye. He was fascinated that he was named after the brightest star in the skies: the Dog Star. Then, as he grew older, a rebellious streak began to reveal itself. He _adored_ the scandal when he was sorted into Gryffindor: the first Black to ever have been so.

"_I swear! That insolent brat! Just wait and see what happens when he comes back tonight! WAIT AND SEE!"_

"There, there Walburga. No need to fuss-,"

"No need? NO NEED?! Salazar's beard, have you LOST YOUR MIND? YOU'RE A FOOL!" shrieked Lady Walburga Black, Countess of Chevron, shrilly. "AND YOUR SON TAKES AFTER YOU!"

"**That's quite enough, Mrs. Black.**"

Oh dear. He called Auntie Walburga that when he was either very upset or very annoyed. Walburga were second cousins whose marriage united two sides of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black.

"Honestly, Orion! You are being too soft on that boy! Give him a hard flogging, for once! Salazar knows he needs it!"

"Mrs. Black, I assure you that I am quite capable of disci-,"

"WELL, I HAVE **YET** TO SEE IT! I TOLD YOU AS SOON AS HE ENTERED THAT SCHOOL HE WAS STARTING TO GO BAD!"

"I believed you too. However, I both recall us agreeing that the more appropriate school, Durmstrang, was too far away."

"YOU'RE IMPOSSIBLE! THE NEXT THING WE KNOW, **YOU'LL** BE THE ONE CONSORTING WITH MUDBLOO-,"

You could hear Orion snarl with distaste. "I assure you Mrs. Black that for me to consort with a mudblood would mean I would have to talk with one for more than a passing moment. I cannot stand the sight of one, much less hold conversation. Tonjours Pur will always be of great importance to me. Don't question my family honor because I choose to uphold it in a more composed manner."

A resonating howl of frustration followed by more heavy pounding on the stairs signaled their Aunt and Uncle's exit. One would be going to the bedroom to hurl inanimate objects; the other probably stepping into his office to glance over paperwork.

"Why can't Sirius be a good sport?" wailed Narcissa. "He insists on making Auntie lose her temper with his tantrums."

A fierce gleam entered the dark-haired witch's eyes. So fierce it made her baby sister step back warily. "That brat will regret it one day. Things are changing around here, Cissy. A new order is about to take place and everyone against it will suffer sooner rather than later." Bella gazed into those blue orbs. "The real question is: are you ready to fight for it?"

The blonde fanned her reddening face with long fingers. "B-B-Bella, you didn't-,"

"I did."

"**Rodolphus? Does he know?"**

**"Of course, he agreed with me 100 and joined himself." Bellatrix fingered her wand. "Will you fight, baby sister?"**

**Narcissa exhaled in defeat. "You know I support the cause to the fullest. But, I'm afraid I don't have the physical tolerance for such…acts. You know that." **

"Um-hm. You always were a sissy, Cissy." The witch purred affectionately. "I shall relay the news then. Don't worry, baby sister, I'll fight with enough vigor for the both of us. _Guaranteed_."

The other Black sister nodded uncomfortably. She almost felt sorry for the enemy. Whenever Bella guaranteed with vigor, it usually ended in blood, tears, and a nasty shattering hex at the kneecaps. That was her signature. One that even Narcissa had carried a few times.

Bellatrix was the warrior of the Blacks. Dangerous.

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR**

"**Comment vous oser! Vous qui savez je suis?!**"

Lilyanna Evans considered herself an intelligent girl. At Hogwarts, the redhead was in the top of her year besides in that nasty little subject called Transfiguration. In the muggle world, she knew how to count to ten in Spanish, sing Fere Jacques in half-French, and bake a _mean_ rice pudding. Though she hadn't reached the same cooking aptitude of Petunia or her father, at least Lily didn't burn water unlike her "unable-to-decipher-a-recipe-if-life-depended-on-it" mum. Gloria Evans set their oven on fire more than any other mother or housekeeper in London. Pride of the Queen's kitchen, her mum is… A grin set on Lily's tired lips. Who thought about cooking at a time like this? Dear Merlin, she must be delusional!

"**SPEAK ENGLISH, YOU SAY! MIGHT AS WELL! YOU AMERICANS REFUSE TO LEARN FRENCH!"**

Ouch. Lily was also smart enough to know when some poor bloke was about to get sacked! That fellow was shouting at the top of his lungs. Lily winced. She could honestly say she felt sorry for that poor American on the other side. If he understood French as abysmally as her, how could he get through that accent?

"**IF YOU DON'T FIND ME A REPLACEMENT…****I DON'T CARE IF JACQUELINE CAUGHT A COLD OR THREW 'ERSELF OFF BRIDGE! ****FIND ME A NEW MODEL! NON! NON! I WILL NOT 'AVE DISCOUNT CLOTH! DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM, MONSIEUR?…OUI…MAKE IT 'APPEN!"**

The phone slammed down on its receiver. Phone? What was a muggle phone doing in a wizarding-paradise like Allée Impériale? Lily peeked out an eye. Her breasts were against what felt like hard stone. Hot, dry wind blew along her back. Lily's face was covered with wet red curls. Oh God, she was sweating like a pig! With a painful groan, she reached a hand up to move her thick hair from view. Much better. The witch could tell that her face was terribly flushed by the earlier heat, not to mention unbearably dry and peeling. God, she must've looked a sight! Thankfully, the peculiar aches from earlier had dimmed down.

Lily released a whimper as memories of the last few hours came rushing back.

"_**Do us all a favor and just blow yourself up, you bloody bitch!!**__"_

_**Piercing groans of pain resonated from victims that lay on the trashed ground…**_

_**Debris everywhere…**_ _**where the statue named Madame Widow once stood was a pile of smoking rubble…**_

_**The bloodied face of a small boy. He wasn't moving.**_

_**Mr. Evans grinned forlornly. "Be careful what you wish for. It's rather dangerous for you."**_

'But, I didn't do it, right Daddy? You know that.' thought Lily in mental despair. She hugged her knees. 'I was mad at Mal-Rat not them! What's happening to me?!"

The redhead didn't understand why she felt like a lost child. It was if a piece of her was breaking off. Emerald green orbs glanced toward the sky. The sun was setting, casting a myriad of oranges, yellows, in addition to dark and velvet purples across the sky. The beautiful sight felt like a foreboding omen. Something bad was happening somewhere…Lily shook her head before rolling her eyes. Now she sounded like her crazy Divination professor from 3rd year!

"_Ooooopen your soooooouls! Cast your eeeeeeyes into the fuuuuuture!_" moaned Lily with a mocking wail. The only thing Lily managed to see in that damned crystal was her own napping reflection. She snorted. "_Thrrrrrrow yourself into the unyielding misssssts of tiiiiime!"_

Laughing wildly, the young witch tossed her head back as she eased her curls into a bun. It wasn't night yet quite so she still had time to explore. Allée Impériale seemed to be an eighteenth-century Parisian scene frozen in time. The cobblestone streets were beginning to empty with their ornate carriages embellished with family crests and symbols of love. Wizards tapped long wooden canes against the sidewalk as they escorted their wives or children back home again. The shops that ran along Allée Impériale were indeed luxurious notwithstanding their astronomically priced items. Most of the grey stone buildings appeared tall, menacing, and covered with green strangling ivy. Allée Impériale definitely wasn't as long as Lily was expecting it to be, but now, especially at night, it was radiating that mysterious almost romantic air that Paris (muggle and wizarding) was famous for.

A few bronze danseurs jingled in Lily's pockets. French money she exchanged at Gringotts, the wizard bank, before leaving Britain. The redhead sang as she walked down Le Chemin de Martin-a small avenue.

_I see trees of green, red roses too  
I see them bloom for me and you  
And, I think to myself what a wonderful world..._

_I see skies of blue and clouds of white  
the bright blessed day, the dark sacred night  
And, I think to myself what a wonderful world!_

She actually learned this song from Mr. Evans' old record collection. He was a huge Satchmo fan. When Lily was little, Mr. Evans made both his daughters sit with him at night and listen to all the old jazz greats of the world. Petunia got more from it than she did. But, thankfully, Mr. Evans was starting to warm up to Lily's loud rock 'n roll though he still preferred The Beatles. The redhead grinned. She was modernizing him. She knew it.

_The colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky _

_Are also on the faces of people going by…  
I see friends shaking hands saying how do you do  
They're really saying I love you._

_I hear babies crying. I watch them grow.  
They'll learn much more than I'll never know…_

A few stars peeked out from against the clouds. The silver moon leisurely rose to its ethereal spot above the horizon. Night. Lily shivered slightly, rubbing her arms. Great. Now, she was getting cold! It's a sure sign she needed to go back to the inn. Dad was probably worried sick, pacing the floor back and forth while mum and Petunia sorted through their new trinkets. Speaking of which, Lily hadn't bought anything in Paris yet. Emerald orbs rolled. She'd been too busy "sulking" earlier to look at souvenirs.

_And, I think to myself what a wonderful world!_

_Yes…I think to myself what a wonderful world…_

Lily grabbed a nearby light pole by the arm and swung around on it lazily. Growing dizzy, the young witch laughed louder as colors blurred together. "Oh yes! What a wonderful, wonderful, wonderful world!" With a resonating cry of joy, she flung herself mid-swing off the pole and onto someone else.

"Oh! Excuse me. I am _so_ sorry. Did I hurt you?"

"Your partner is waiting."

"S-Sorry?"

His height was what caught her by surprise. This man she'd bumped into was extremely tall, almost seven feet high. Muscular arms crossed as his astonishing electric blue, deep-set eyes gazed down on Lily wisely. The mahogany wand hanging on the stranger's leather belt nearly matched with his dark skin. A slight grin appeared as he fixed the collar of his cloak-probably the only damage she'd inflicted on his person.

"Your partner," he spoke reassuringly, "is waiting for you. You are last of the fresh blood tonight. Come with me."

The black man grabbed Lily by the arm, pulling her towards an alleyway. "Wait! Let go of me! I already have a wand if that's what you-,"

"_No, that's not what I mean._ It's time for you to find your partner in magic."

"Isn't that what a wand's for?! Let me go! NOW!"

The redhead latched her arms onto a doorway in an attempt to turn around. Glancing over her shoulder, Lily froze in shock. Walking merrily down the cobblestone lane with a handsome couple was the boy! It _had _to be him! Except now, his face wasn't bloodied. And, as he ran in front of his parents, the lad laughed in glee. Definitely breathing, definitely alive, and most certainly not buried under rubble. The sight, while relieving, still left Lily with unease. There was no way even with magic for the tyke to heal that fast. Her dad was a doctor. She knew about the post-traumatic syndromes. Yet, he was just a smiling and grinning as if someone shouted free ice cream. _How?_

The unfamiliar man spoke again. His voice reminded Lily of a deep gong. "We must hurry before they come for you!" He pulled at her wrist and with his great strength effectively removed her from her post. "They have been watching you since daybreak. Your father was a fool to leave you without protection."

"How do you know my father?" cried Lily.

He hesitated. "…Never mind that. Come. Come. We must hurry!"

"WHY-,"

"**Hush, child**! The shadows have ears, you know. If it eases you to know, my name is Xavier."

Lily snorted. "Oh, yes. Knowing my killer's name will bring me great comfort before I'm blown away into itty bitty pieces on the pavement!"

"My, my," Xavier chuckled in amusement. "You've inherited quite the biting tongue. I am no killer, child. I am the Guardian of the Treasures and my line has passed down that title for thousands of years. I'd rather not dishonor the tradition."

"Well. I'd rather you leave me the hell alone, but we don't always get what we want, do we?"

"_Hush, child_."

They walked for about half a kilometer. Lily was positive they weren't in Allée Impériale anymore when the shiny apartment complexes and luxury stores became sordid, rundown houses and discount shops on the block. People milled about in a lethargic yet still charged manner. Lily glowered at a drunkard who gave her a rude gesture with his tongue. As much as she hated to say it, this place was rather filthy. Smelly, stagnant water flooded the streets. Dirt was everywhere, especially on children's faces. Lily's heart lurched as she viewed their thin, tattered robes. Her light blue halter sundress was clean and, whiles not haute couture, at least wearable. A barely-dressed woman approached Xavier purring in his ear. He pushed her away and steered Lily toward their destination.

"Welcome to Le Nid de Sphnix. The Sphinx's Nest."

If Xavier hadn't pointed out the iron door, she would've walked right past it. The wizard gently ushered Lily inside. Out of the corner of her eye, she heard him mutter then saw him trace his fingers along the doorframe. It glowed red. "That'll hold 'em for a while."

"Who's them?"

"The shadows. But never mind that. Start feeling for your partner."

The young witch realized she was standing in a single room filled with junk. Piles of miscellaneous items were thrown upon more piles of chaos. There were not only books, but yo-yos, boxes, toy trains and ships, rocks, string, broken wands, and kitchenware. It appeared to be the place where everything lost in the universe gravitated. Lily's button nose wrinkled. "How am I supposed to do that?"

"With your magic, dawling." A purring voice answered. " 'Ello! My name ez Celestyn Le Creux-Duclaires. You must be Lilyanna. My, you so look like your père, excuse me, your father."

Celestyn Le Creux-Duclaires was possibly the loveliest witch Lily had ever seen. She'd read articles about the witch in the Daily Prophet, which led either praising on her heavenly looks and generosity or whispering about her reputation as a high-maintenance gold digger. Lily scrunched her eyebrows, trying to remember all she could. Before marriage, Mademoiselle Le Creux was a dazzling international supermodel, but a low-born one at that. Her parents were carpenters. Their daughter played off her angelic face, tanned skin, waterfall of a brown mane, and glowing aquamarine eyes to her best advantage. Emerald orbs slightly rolled. Lily saw boys and even male professors at Hogwarts oogle the woman's winking posters. Sirius Black had even whistled about her having, "the best rack in Europe."

"You're the Prime Minister's wife, right?" Lily shook hands with the older woman. "How do you know my dad?"

"Yes, I am le Madame de Ministre. I'm sure you heard all about my Honoré today. What with his moving speech on the wireless and all…doesn't his voice sound so debonair?" She shivered. "I shall have to make sure to surprise my politician tonight."

The redhead's grin became fixed. "Oh…that's nice…my dad-,"

"Everyone knows your father, dawling. He is-how would you say it in English?-_famous_. But, I'm sure you know all about that!"

"Uh, not really." Lily shrugged. "You gotta be mistaken, ma'm. My dad's a muggle."

It was amusing to see the high-class witch sputter wordlessly. Then a shadow crossed her beautiful countenance. "Ah! I see he has decided to keep you in the dark despite your transforma-,"

A polite cough reverberated from the corner. Xavier pointed toward a staircase behind them Lily hadn't noticed. Prancing down it was a blonde-haired girl that was the near mirror reflection of Celestyn. "There's my baby! Antoinette, je veux que vous ayez rencontré Lilyanna. Elle est l'âge pareille comme vous. Lilyanna attends Hogwarts, yes?"

"Oui, mère," answered the blonde demurely. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mademoiselle Lilyanna. My name ez Antoinette Duclaires."

The emerald-eyed girl reached out to shake the formally offered hand. "Same. Call me Lily, everyone else does."

A hint of some emotion Lily couldn't quite identify tinted Antoinette's lips into a sort of half-smirk. Her golden hair was arranged neatly in a bun, yet it seemed a bit wild as if the pins wouldn't hold it. Lily was positive she'd seen the girl on a magazine cover, but, besides that, hadn't heard of her. Antoinette's pretty head was cocked to one side, aquamarine orbs evaluating. Lily felt like a statue on display over a fireplace. Then she blanched as the other stifled a yawn and turned to converse with her mother in French. _Aren't you Miss Friendly?_

"Mademoiselle Duclaires, did you find your partner?" asked Xavier. The blonde nodded; this time in excitement. She handed over a unique necklace that appeared handmade with an assortment of pale beads, ocean fragments, and striking seashells. The Guardian of the Treasures analyzed the necklace, whispering to it gently.

"You have chosen well, child. This necklace is the Collar of Amphitrite- an ancient Greek goddess. With its powers, you will be able to speak to and summon any aquatic creature throughout the seven seas. Use it wisely."

Lily saw Antoinette hold back a squeal as the treasure was placed upon her neck. Celestyn didn't bother. She tightly held her daughter, purring and cooing with maternal delight. The redhead caught a glimpse of a big diamond brooch on Antoinette's high-collared robes. She wondered if the girl was really as indulged as much as one might believe.

"My poor baby! Now, you will never come out from the water!" cried Celestyn in mock-dismay. "Your père will be so proud."

The young witch giggled with joy. "Merci, monsieur."

"Je n'ai fait rien. Mais, vous êtes très bienvenu. Come mademoiselle fleur," Xavier motioned at Lily. "It's time that you found your own partner."

Madam Le Creux-Duclaires fastened a silk green cloak over her dress. "Au revoir, monsieur….mademoiselle. Lilyanna, dawling, you must try to visit us on the Rivera this summer. Our house there ez quite comfortable and my baby here prefers company."

The sour look on Antoinette's face told Lily that she didn't. "Um…I'll try."

"Excellent! Even if you don't come, Antoinette ez always happy to show pictures. You go to 'Ogwarts, yes? She will definitely see you, then. Au revoir, mon chere! Say goodbye dawling."

"_Au revoir_," returned Antoinette stiffly as she followed her mother out. "If we don't meet at Hogwarts, we'll see each other at the Sanguis."

Lily grinned brightly. "See ya later!" The door closed. "**Bitch.**"

Mysteriously, a chuckling Xavier appeared beside her. "That's no way to talk about someone."

"Pah!" Emerald orbs rolled. "Did you see the way that girl looked at me? I thought the flesh was going to melt off her face when her mum invited me over! And-and, what is the Sanguis?"

"Her haughtiness isn't unjustified, child, and neither is yours. The Duclaires family has existed in France since the time of kings. They have precedence over the French Conclave…which you will learn about in due time." Xavier added hastily. "As to the Sanguis, it's not my place to tell you."

"But-,"

"Start searching now! The Sphinx's Nest must close at midnight tonight. You have but sixteen minutes."

Lily blanched into a ghastly shade of white. It was past eleven o'clock already! Her dad was going to kill her when she got back! Emerald eyes glazed over the humongous piles of junk. How was she supposed to find her "partner" in this pigsty again? With her magic?

"**Lilyanna!!"**

"Look buster. You're the one who dragged me here so don't rush me! Merlin, who tied your wand in a knot? **Jeez**!"

The girl turned away on her heel. Xavier frowned. He didn't need to look at the door to feel the moving darkness licking along the bottom of the frame, craving for its missing target to satisfy the never-ending hunger. "_The shadows_, _child_."

* * *

Whenever Madeline felt upset, she went shopping. It was a natural reaction to any extreme emotional experience. Jolly or cheerless, depressed or triumphant. And, when in Paris, she could be found in one place: _the House of Worth_Madeline loved the House of Worth. It was her haven, a place where nothing terrible could be allowed to occur. She adored the clean architectural details, the pale wood fixtures, the glaring light against the glass of the perfume counters, and the racks upon racks of gorgeous (albeit exorbitantly priced) dress robes and lingerie. Shopping there would be a great remedy to what happened earlier. 

Madeline huffed as her boot heels clacked against the cobblestone pathway while her long velvet cloak swept against it. The Potters abandoned her! What nerve! Blue eyes narrowed. Lady Dorea never did come down from her quarters. Charlus whisked off to his fancy-smancy meeting without another word. And, James! Oh, James! Her snookums, and secret (at least to his parents) boyfriend for three months, had never even come to Allée Impériale!! Madeline inquired on all the shopkeepers from King's Lane to La Place de Marie Antoinette. No one had seen hide or tail of le jeune monsieur Potter or his comrades since New Year's Eve. Nope. She'd barely seen him this entire vacation! What was wrong with James? Was he trying to avoid her?

As Madeline slid her wand into the membership keyhole, the glass doors opened. Another quality she loved about the House of Worth: irreparably exclusive. An extremely skinny witch with chic purple robes on approached Madeline deferentially. "Peux-je vous aider, Mademoiselle vonArrow?"

"I've come to see the gowns put aside for me."

She nodded. With a bow, Madeline was ushered inside. She followed the salesclerk to the private dressing room in the back that was reserved for VIP's such as herself. It was a circular room with black leather couches along the circumference, a drink bar, and a hosted buffet table. Madeline's blue eye immediately spotted the rack of clothes her mother or personal shopper had especially chosen for her. A smirk formed on those plump lips. Merlin, she loved special treatment! Grabbing a pumpkin martini, Madeline perused her rack laying possibilities for the Sanguis on the couch beside her. She frowned after a few minutes.

"Why is everything on here black?!" whined the broomstick heiress.

The salesclerk winced. "Black is the primary color for the Sanguis, mademoiselle."

"But, that doesn't mean it has to be a funeral, does it? How could mother do this to me! She knows I have to look the absolute best. This is _my_ coming-out for crying out loud!"

Madeline kicked the steel rack away not even feeling the customary pain in her toes. She screamed with rage while throwing the filled martini glass on the expensive carpet. To the salesclerk's horror, Madeline began going through **other** people's racks. The blonde witch howled like a wounded animal whenever an article of clothing was better than one of hers. Wild exclamations of "trash", "waste", "junk", and "not fair!" filled the area. Madeline vonArrow had officially entered a tantrum tirade.

"Mademoiselle!" cried the clerk in distress. "Please stop! Please!"

"**Shut up!**" The pupils of her silvery blue eyes turned into slits. "**You stupid human! Get me Charles Worth! NOW!**"

"M-M-Monsieur is dealing with a very important client who requires his, um, full concentration at the moment."

"**WHO'S MORE IMPORTANT THAN ME?**"

A suave new voice entered the conversation. "Plenty of people, if I may recall. Your parents are members of the British Conclave, yes? Let's see…there's the Council members…the Regis…then you have the European Coven…the Table of Ranks…why, **Miss** vonArrow, you don't even hold a title to your name! You're just filthy rich-something anyone else can be with the right idea. Why should **I **design a gown for you?"

Though inwardly seething, Madeline calmed her features back to normal. Charles Worth was definitely not one to mess with. He might've been a short, squat man with a bald head and an almost dowdy appearance, but he was the current wizarding god of fashion. His word went unchallenged. His delightful confections of tulle, silk, and satin embroidery were worshiped by witches everywhere. It was common knowledge Monsieur Worth got paid thousands of galleons to show off and ship his creations around the world. To have a gown made exclusively by him at the Sanguis would be too marvelous for words! Madeline grinned charmingly. Here was her chance.

"Because I'm beautiful."

To her embarrassment, the Monsieur snorted in disbelief. "You're pretty, I'll give you that. But, I've dressed some ladies that would sweep the floor with you."

Madeline flushed in outrage. How dare he! "I am clever."

"Oh yes…so clever that you would near destroy my VIP room, insult one of my best employees, interrupt my work while doing so, and then ask for my help with your little gown. Are you sure you're even invited to the Sanguis?"

"Of course, I am!"

With a flick of a finger, a large brandy floated into his hand. "Give me another reason."

It didn't take long to think of another. "I'm powerful! You saw what I'm capable of!"

"Spurts of accidental magic that any mere wizard child is capable of…I applaud you. You'll be a Grand Sorceress yet." Sarcasm dripped from his tone. "What is your partner?"

"A partner? I don't need some stupid little trinket to enhance my power."

The brandy vanished in one gulp. "So you're saying you didn't even bother going to the Sphinx's Nest? Humph. Fool. But, lucky for you, I pity the fool."

Blue eyes glowed as the Monsieur Worth removed his wand. Was he? While muttering under his breath in French, racks upon racks of ball gowns zoomed from around the VIP room or from other parts of the shop. They zig-zagged, curved, and then finally straightened in front of him. With an examining eye, the short fashion genius selected a few gowns, throwing them carelessly in Madeline's direction.

"Try those on."

"B-B-B-But, I wanted you to design a dress! And, these are all so gloomy-looking!"

He glanced up sharply. "You'll take what I pick for you and you'll like it. I'm only designing Sanguis gowns for wives and children of the Table of Ranks."

These rags were not what she wanted! With a huff, Madeline dropped them on the floor while crossing her arms stubbornly. The salesclerk moved to grab the forsaken articles. "**Don't touch those, Jeanine!**" Her manicured hand flinched back at her employer's frigid tone. "**Obviously Miss vonArrow doesn't understand that every piece sold here is evaluated by me. So when she insults other's work, she insults my expertise."**

Madeline stomped her foot. "I'm not wearing those! They're all so dark and the skirts are too short. They look like something that mudblood Evans might wear!"

"Please refrain from using that disgusting word in my shop." replied the now calm Monsieur.

"I know, right! Evans is such a nasty muggle name. It's so plain! Not to mention she's always sassing off to the professors…she thinks she's everything and a box of chocolate frogs!"

"Is she attractive? She **must** be." No one but Jeanine noticed the conviction in his voice.

"Is there such a thing as an attractive mudblood?" answered Madeline in a sneer. "Mind you, she's all right. Not as bad as Ivy Parkinson. But, she's no great beauty like me! That little second-year boy who follows her everywhere doesn't help matters either. He thinks she's _wonderful_. Can you believe he's a Hallow? Mother **told** me that family is going downhill!"

The Monsieur kept flipping threw the racks, but his brown eyes were glowing. "Does this Evans mademoiselle have red hair?"

"I wouldn't say red. It's more of an orange color. But, you can't really tell because she wears it up all the time. She's terrible! My boyfriend James and I can't stand her," gushed Madeline. "You should hear how she talks to him! Like she's the Queen of England!"

"James Potter?"

"Of course. You know him?"

Monsieur Worth snorted. "I design tea gowns for his mother. I know _of _him because he's all she talks about. My, that boy has sunk low."

"What's that supposed to mean?!" cried the blonde in indignation.

"Nothing. But, that boy is a Potter male. They are famous for their weakness for women with red hair. So, when I hear you talk about this Evans girl, I wonder if you are jealous of the fact she's better than you at something or of her red hair."

Madeline sneered. Everyone knew red hair was much less desirable than blonde like hers. "Me? Jealous? Hah! Don't make me laugh! Why would I be jealous of **her**?"

"What color are her eyes?"

"Toady green."

He shook his bald head. "Emerald, then. You should know better, vonArrow. That's top-notch! No wonder they're so proud…"

"Who are "they" and why are you so interested in Evans?!"

"Never mind that. Here. Buy this and leave my shop, you will. I'm tired of ya! You're lucky I pity fools, Mademoiselle vonArrow."

Haphazardly tossing over a dress, Monsieur Worth nodded at his employee to take care of the rest. She bid her boss a good night because she knew he was off to bed in the attic. The Monsieur constantly stayed close to his drawing board for whenever inspiration may unexpectedly strike. Jeanine walked over to her blonde customer, wincing at the ugliness of the garment in her arms. It was A-line with a pick up skirt and sweetheart neckline. The waist was curved; the train was floor length. Yet, those were the only appealing technical features. First, the skirt was incredibly puffy and cone-like in shape. Second, it was also pleated into ruffles held by tacky crystal sequins. Third, the entire dress was possibly the most alarming, obnoxious, gaudy, and horrible shade of orange Jeanine had ever seen.

"It's perfect…" purred Madeline as she headed toward the counter without bothering to try the monstrosity on. "And, I'll have those other clothes on the couch too."

All in all, Madeline vonArrow made a purchase of seven extravagant items (including a terribly pink feathered hat) totaling a hefty cost of 2,753 danseurs. The blonde charged it to her family account without batting an eyelash.

"Goodnight, mademoiselle," uttered a relieved salesclerk as Madeline exited with head held high. As expected, the vonArrow family carriage was waiting for her. It was too late for a young lady like herself to walk home unescorted.

The old footman smiled. "Did you enjoy your-umph!"

Boxes were immediately shoved onto his person, rudely cutting off his greeting. Madeline really didn't feel like annoying chit-chat tonight. All she wanted to worry about was taking off her makeup and spending time with James tomorrow. Blue orbs narrowed. That boy was lucky he looked so delicious or else she would never forgive him for today! Leaning back onto the soft cushion, Madeline glanced out the tiny window at the glamorous facade of the House of Worth.

Hmph. Such rude service! She never did like that place much.

* * *

_Strange things are happening in Paris and I think they have something to do with me. Crazy, huh? Well, I'm back at the inn now. I guess that's pretty dumb to tell you because you can't talk and I wouldn't be anywhere else writing. Mum asked me if I had been with a boy all night. Typical. You remember my mum, right? The ex-heiress? Yup, that's her. She still acts like one, mind you, and she's obsessed that Petunia and me marry rich. Good luck to that! No offense to my blood, but Petunia's not pretty at all, diary! Only dad thinks she is. Mum and I secretly wonder what happened to the production from the time of the adorable baby pictures. I suppose I shouldn't really talk. I'm not bad-looking, but I'm definitely no Celestyn Duclaires. Strange thing is though that boys have been staring at me lately like I'm sort of veela. I'm not bragging! In Allée Impéria__le, this bloke who owned a jewelry shop tried to give me free emeralds "to match high-quality eyes!" Desperate? I think so._

_I found my "partner" today. Don't ask me what a partner is supposed to do. I don't know myself. At this place named the Sphinx's Nest, I concentrated my magic and found this dusty, old leather book that "called" to me. I think it's rather useless because the pages are empty, but Xavier (Guardian of the Treasure or whatever) insisted they'll reveal themselves with time. He called it the Book of Shadows. There's no writing in it anywhere! All there just is is a picture of an intercrossed sun and moon on the cover. Then, for some reason, Xavier made me floo to the fireplace downstairs. You can imagine that sight with the muggles. Great, huh? I'm trying to decide if I want to bring the book to Hogwarts with me. Who am I kidding? It's my only souvenir from Paris! If anything, Treth will like it or at least pretend to. He's sweet like that._

_Okay, diary, I haven't gotten a spanking for being bad since I was seven. But, that might change when dad comes back. Especially, if Petunia decides to forget the pocket money I promised her to keep that big mouth of hers shut! Nah, but I was just pulling ya string on the spanking part. No, daddy will probably ground me to the house until Hogwarts. Harsh, much? I hope mum doesn't tell him that theory about me being with a boy. Oh then I'll never see the light of day until Hogwarts. Dad's pretty protective like that. He once told Petunia and I we're not allowed to date until "after we're married!" Does that make sense to you, diary? You can imagine how tough it is for me being the baby of the family! Honestly, I'm 16 and my dad treats me like I'm 6. _

_Enough ranting now. Seriously, I am worried about him, diary. It is one o'clock in the morning (yes, I'm about to claw my eyes out) and he's __still__ not back! Earlier, when I was in __Allée Impéria__le, I felt something…evil was happening somewhere. But, I don't know what and to whom. Do you think it was about daddy? It would be unlucky to have something happen to him on my birthday and…I said some pretty awful things to him that I want to apologize for. Some wicked things. But, out of all of us, Mum is worried the most. She keeps pacing by the fireplace downstairs, refusing to go to sleep or acting like she doesn't need it. They have been married for about twenty years now. I mean she gave up a __huge__ inheritance for him. That's love! Anyone can tell she's obsessed with daddy. You have to know dad to tell he loves her too because he's not big with PDA (public display of affection). Dad's more of the less chauvinist, Victorian gentleman doctor type. Do you think my husband will be like that, diary? They say girls marry men like their fathers. I don't know. I've always imagined my man would be more outgoing, you know, kinda crazy! Someone that would travel with me to exotic places and make me laugh until I need stitches. Romantic, huh?_

_Well diary, we have about a week left in Paris. I can't wait to get back to London. This heat wave is killing me! It can't possibly be this hot in London. Yep, all I want to do is just lay on the grass in Hyde Park and watch the clouds go by. Maybe I'll write a few songs there or play some guitar licks for change. You should see me, diary. I wear the oldest pair of overalls I have and this great fedora hat. My parents hate it and Petunia doesn't claim me because she says I look like a beggar child. Whatever! I think I look so…post-modern and ironic! (That's a quote from mum's fancy heiress talk.) She's just jealous because I make more pocket money than her. That's sisterhood for you._

_I think I'll retire for the night, diary. Just pray dad comes back while I'm sleeping, will you?_

_Forever Your Flower,_

* * *

Even tourists knew about the infamous Pigalle Place in the city. It was the Parisian red-light district where the more adventurous risqué crowd entered at night. They partied madly inside the cabarets among the general adults-only shows and X-rated adventures. It's rumored a man can buy an overpriced bottle of champagne and that markup covers a girl for the night as well. She frowned. Why was she dreaming of this place? She wasn't sleep-walking, was she? Her eyes roamed the area, causing her jaw to drop. Impossible! 

Yet there he was: a tall man wearing a pressed shirt, pants, and tie coming quickly up the slope. Her father! What was Dmitri Evans doing in a place like Pigalle? He should be entering the inn or calling them from some late night medical conference. A name barely floats from his lips. _Morgaine. Morgaine. _Was he looking for her? Who was this Morgaine anyway?

A scantily dressed prostitute pulls him by the tie toward her abode. She purrs to him in French, eyeing him as though he were a succulent piece of meat. It was no secret to her that her father was extremely handsome. With his short, cropped light brown hair, lean figure, and angular face set with those constantly analyzing cobalt orbs had women swooning. As his daughter, she'd gone her whole life hearing nurses at the hospital croon "Paging Dr. Dreamy" whenever he walked past. Mr. Evans was one of those kinds of men you could stare at or droll over for hours, which his wife would do with free and youthful abandon because she got the ring first. It used to be rather unsettling growing up with such an attractive dad, especially when you proposed to him when you were six and never allowed to forget it since.

Mr. Evans roughly pushed the woman away, growling under his breath. He continued his determined trek along the lines of neon signs and intoxicated men. But, the prostitute- something was different about her. The coquette's eyes were glowing vivid, nasty yellow. She tried to call out to her dad. Warn him. Yet for some reason no word exited her mouth and she was forced to watch helplessly as the woman followed him.

They walked into a quieter niche of Pigalle. Here most pedestrians were inside enjoying more private festivities. She grew disturbed as she watched night shadows mold around the woman. Mr. Evans didn't look behind as he walked into a dank, narrow alleyway. There was something coiled, waiting in the darkness at the back. It's as if the dark had begun to move. Impossible! But, it is and with a slithering sound that made her skin hatch Goosebumps. The thing grows until it reaches all around Mr. Evans and the woman. There is sound coming from the center…the most grisly moans and wails of the damned. To her horror, the darkness began to grab at her father's wrists and ankles as he turned.

Mr. Evans faced his female assailant without any apparent fear. "Call your beast off me, Morgaine."

It was astonishing to view the woman's face transform from pretty Parisian into primitive huntress. At seeing the tall man so securely bound, she cracked a grin of ragged, aged teeth. "But, darling, my pet has missed you so much since your last encounter! Can't you tell?"

Lily gasped as she watched a shred of darkness squeeze her dad's throat. "O-o-oh, yes!" choked Mr. Evans. "H-how couldn't I-I?"

"And, did you miss my pet?" She cackled at his misery.

Cobalt orbs narrowed. "L-l-like I m-missed having a c-c-cold."

"Now, now old friend. That's no way to act towards your comrades."

It was the boy pickpocket! Except now he seemed more menacing than ever in a long black cloak. "After all those years we spent together….Dmitri, aren't you happy to see us?"

Mr. Evans began pulsing with a powerful aura Lily never felt before.

"You know damn well Sergei I haven't had a damn thing to do with you in twenty years!"

"Twenty-three, my friend" he sneered nastily. "I have been keeping track and I'm not the only one you've nothing to do with for so long."

On cue, a small group of people apparated around them from the darkness. Lily couldn't actually see the new strangers. No. She only saw a blanketing mist over their entire bodies. There was no use trying to remove it. If anything, it caused a slight rift that allowed a nose or pair of lips to appear. Lily could do nothing but count. There were at least eight of them.

"Don't I feel loved…" Mr. Evans croaked in sarcasm. The darkness had removed itself from his air tunnel. "All of you getting together in Paris just to hear me tell you that you all are nothing but cruel, no-hearted sons of a bitch-,"

"_Crucio!_"

The pickpocket, or Sergei, held out an ebony wand over her father's twitching body. His dark eyes were alight with an insane delight at seeing his victim's torment. Lily knew from her Defense against the Dark Arts textbooks that the Cruciatus or torture curse felt like a thousand knives stabbing your body over and over. So even though her dad tried not to show weakness before the cackling crowd, she could see the sheer agony in his blue eyes.

"Stop it! Stop it!" yelled Lily.

They kept going. Why didn't anyone hear her?

"Stop it, I said! Leave him alone! Stop right now!" An innate strength gathered within her throat. "**Did you hear me?! I TOLD YOU TO LEAVE MY FATHER ALONE!" **

The ground shook as Lily's voice reached an unprecedented pitch of frequency. All of the shrouded figures either lost balance or withdrew their wands. The redhead screamed until the air collapsed in her lungs along with her legs. Panting on the ground, Lily soon came face to face with an ebony wand.

"Well, well, well. Congratulations, princess! You've achieved your first Cry." The wizard named Sergei snarled. "A rather weak one, mind you. See your daddy over there? The one writing in pain? His can paralyze within a kilometer and kill any within a meter. He's just too noble to use it."

"SHUT UP!" roared Mr. Evans. "Lily…Lily, are you okay, darling?"

"Ah, look at that!" crooned another witch from the shadows. "He's worried about his baby girl. Such a family man now!"

Sergei replied listlessly. "Such a weak man now, you mean. I can't say the Master will be pleased with you Dmitri. Reproducing with muggle wenches…I myself thought you could sink no lower. But, you can't help your pedigree, can you princess?"

Lily shakily stood up again. Straightening her shoulders, she tried to appear as Gryffindor as possible. It was a hard image to display when all you were wearing were an old white tank top and pajama shorts. The night cold pierced Lily's pale skin and caused her to shiver. Great! Just great! She'd slept-walked into a scene with neither a wand nor ally. _Genius in the making_.

"Unfortunately for you princess, we're rather in a bit of a hurry. Sun's almost up, you know and some of us can't handle the heat. So I am afraid this is where we say goodbye." Those dark eyes glittered in a sinister manner. "**Permanently**. Morgaine!"

The archaic-looking woman threw her head back in a screech, pointing at the unsuspecting Lily. The darkness moved toward the young witch, spreading its claws in preparation to attack. Lily glanced at her father for help. Cobalt blue orbs gazed into emerald green helplessly with anguish. He was struggling to break free…to help her…to protect her.

"Goodbye, princess."

The last sight Lilyanna Evans saw of her father was of him being devoured by the darkness.

* * *

Have you ever had a nightmare that you weren't in control of? A nightmare that was so strong it grabbed a whole of you and seemed impossible to shake off. One of those inconsolable dreams where you woke up, shivering and cold, with the sheets drenched with sweat? Well, that was the kind of nightmare Lilyanna awoke screaming from back at the quaint little inn, safe in her rented bed. She screamed so loudly ten other vacationers awoke. She screamed so loudly her sister slammed her head on the headboard when the dogs outside began to yap. She screamed so loudly her throat dried up and eventually she choked on her own spit. She screamed loud enough to awaken an aquamarine-eyed blonde in her Versailles-sized home outside of Paris. 

"_You know," whispered Lily, staring into her father's eyes, "sometimes I wish you would just disappear."_

_Mr. Evans grinned forlornly. "Be careful what you wish for. It's rather dangerous for you."_

Only when her mum entered the room by herself did the redhead burst into tears. Lily wished at that moment, soon not for the first time, she had a Time-Turner so she could take back all those wicked things she had said. Guilt had that sort of effect on a heart, and hers was of the twisting, burning kind.

* * *

**AN: Wooohoooo! Go me! Go me! I'll even throw in a "yee-haw!" because I'm a southern girl. This second chapter was actually a bit harder for me to write because I had to decide what details needed to be explored and what didn't. Anyway, I hope u enjoyed it. MAKE SURE TO REVIEW OR E-MAIL ME WITH YOUR COMMENTS! I LUV KNOWING IT FROM A READER'S POV! **


	4. Shadow Warning

* * *

Bloodlines: Heritage Year

* * *

**What frightens you? What causes your heart to stop? Your palms to sweat? Your mind to become clouded while your body is frozen, waiting in vain for orders? Do you fear, my girl? The ancestors of your people did not. Some say fear is weakness-a liability. That's what they believed in their arrogance.**

**I disagree.**

**Do you? Look at your bloodline: brave, ancient warriors of the realms whose bones have long rotted on this earth into dust. It was punishment for rebellion. Because they didn't fear. Now their descendents are paying the true price: dependence-an unexpected curse. Isn't it worse than Death? Asking for what you need. To be reliant upon someone else's whim. To be denied? Yes girl, your people may be powerful in a world of glittering gems, but what happens when you move them down under? They depend on life force after all.**

**And those not necessarily willing to share it.**

**You will carry this burden as well, but not at the same depth. For you are only half of what they are. A product of treachery. Can you tell the signs? Your body is changing along with your powers. It runs in the blood-the rebellious nature. That's why I chose to accompany you. When the time comes and truths are revealed, you won't reject me.**

**You can't.**

**Who am I? I am your guardian and servant. I am your best friend and worst enemy. Your secret-keeper of sorts. I've had others in the past, but you shall be the most glorious of all. I will reveal myself to your eyes soon. For now, be content in your obliviousness. Let the answers seek you first. I will be mere spectator until the time comes to act.**

* * *

AN: CAN ANYONE GUESS WHO THE NARRATOR OF THIS SEGMENT WAS? I'M CURIOUS.


	5. Chapter 5&6: Coming Home

**Disclaimer: See the top of chapter 1 & 2. I don't own Harry Potter or its characters.**

**ATTENTION: TO ANYONE WHO'S INTERESTED, I AM LOOKING FOR A BETA READER FOR THIS STORY. PLEASE TELL ME IN A REVIEW OR E-MAIL IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO DO SO.**

Warnings: **AU.** Mentions of sexual behavior. Teenage humor. Mature themes. Violence in later chapters. Some foul language. Romance. Creature violence.

* * *

Bloodlines: Heritage Year

Chapter 5&6: Coming Home

* * *

"It's so nice of your grandparents to give you those lovely clothes."

Whoever said beauty is in the eye of the beholder deserved a nice pat on the back. First of all, this dress smelled old and looked a far cry from lovely. It was the kind of old where you hold your nose and wonder if you'll ever breathe fresh air again. Speaking of breathing, the rag had obviously been created at a time where women learned not to. It felt like she was suffocating under a suit of armor. Emerald orbs narrowed. Boy, what she would give to hit it with a burning hex! Lily felt as though she were locked in a cage-not a dress.

"So much history!" gushed Mrs. Evans. "I think it once belonged to your great-grandmother!"

The redhead growled deep in her throat. "I think it smells like my great-grandmother…"

"But, she's dead."

"_**Exactly**_!"

Gloria Evans, with her platinum blonde hair and mint green orbs, possessed a rather appealing nymph-like beauty. She was one of those women for whom you prayed to stay pretty because they had nothing else going for them. At least, that's how Lily liked to think of it. She glanced at her forty-three year old mother reproachfully.

"Lily, you look charming. It looks like you stepped off a cameo pin!"

"You're talking about the kind of pin **no one** wears anymore, right?" inquired the redhead sarcastically. "We're in the seventies, mum."

Her brow furrowed. "Of course I know it's the seventies, dear. I see it enough on the streets. All those leather jackets, hair colors, and tattoos you youngsters are sporting these days…oh my goodness!" Mint green eyes widened with worry. "You haven't got a tattoo, have you?!"

"Mum-,"

"Is it horrendous? Where is it?"

Lily slapped away her mother's prying hands. "Mum, I don't have-,"

"Then you must have gotten a body-piercing! Open your mouth. Let me see."

"**Mother!** Can you please calm down for one second? I don't have a tongue ring! _See_!" Lily stuck out her un-ruptured pink tongue, holding it out for good measure. She'd actually gotten her belly-button secretly pierced just a few days before leaving for Paris. It was a very "hush hush" operation. A pang hit Lily's heart. Her dad would kill her when he found out about it-

_If_ he ever came back.

"You're brooding again," admonished Mrs. Evans. "Do try not to look so dour, baby. You're going back to Hogwarts!"

_Hogwarts_. Her mother had been saying that lately as though the single word was the cure to everything. Lily's head sunk low. The thought of being at scary-looking Hogwarts Castle with its jumble of towers and turrets, supernatural lessons, talking suits of armor, talkative floating ghosts, and twisting corridors alongside moving staircases was indeed magical. But, nothing could cure the fact that Dmitri Evans, her father, had been missing for the past week and a half. Nothing could change the fact they were back in London as a group, not a family. Lily stayed up late every night, listening to her desperate mother's phone calls to the French and British authorities. Not a soul had seen head or tail of Doctor Evans.

Yet the most frustrating aspect to Lily was the fact that she was only one with a somewhat clue to his disappearance. And, she couldn't say a word about it! What muggle detective would believe a teenage "witch" had witnessed her dad's kidnapping without even getting out of bed?

A new shrill voice cut through her morbid thoughts. "_Lily! You're doing it again._"

"Sorry," replied the witch without thinking.

Pale grey orbs rolled in annoyance. "Don't be sorry. Just stop it."

"Please forgive me, Petty," sneered Lily "for having _feelings_."

"Humph. Freaks like **you** don't have feelings!"

Petunia Fiona Evans was whom Lily considered to be her older sister "in question". Petunia was a tall blonde, skinny string bean with a long giraffe-like neck. She was the nosiest gossip Lily knew and used that neck to the best advantage, craning it around to listen to what the neighbors were up to. Since the first Hogwarts letter, Petunia developed the worst aversion to magic. That's sisterhood for you. One moment you were both cute, cuddly and the best of friends…the next you were kicking each other in the throat.

"Leave your sister alone, Petty. What have we told you about using that word?"

"But mummy," whined the blonde. "I simply don't understand how she could be so ungrateful! I **love** the dress Nana gave me!"

Lily swiftly turned on a heel to face her sister. "Petunia, you look terrible in that frock and you know it. Stop kissing arse!"

Petunia was swirling around in an evening gown that made her body look like an underfed, ruffled bird. She got the better deal of the two. Lily sniffed. Her dress was from the shining sixties instead of World War II!

"Lily!" reprimanded Mrs. Evans. "Be nice to your-,"

"Can we go home now?"

An uncomfortable silence settled among the three women. Gloria shifted on the canopy bed the most. Somehow her parents had heard of Dmitri's disappearance and subsequently appeared at the door of their humble abode. Now Petunia, a reluctant Lily, and she were in Mayfair-an upper-class residential district in London.

"This is such a nice hotel. You have your own suite! I don't understand why you're in such a rush-,"

"What if dad comes home?"

Mrs. Evans paused. "…I left the number of the hotel on the refrigerator. If-,"

"**When.**"

"_When _he comes back, he'll call us split-second. You know your father. Always on his toes…" The wife grinned distractedly, becoming lost in one of her love-induced daydreams. "I suppose you have to be when you're a great doctor like he is. I noticed you're wearing his ring darling."

She totally forgot about it. The ring was still glistening on her finger with blazing emeralds and sapphires around a gold band. Lily gazed into the crest of a dark, lunging wolf. The tiny emeralds it possessed for eyes matched hers-a startling coincidence.

Gloria sighed wistfully. "You always were attached to it. I remember one time you took it off your daddy's hand while he was sleeping. Blimey! I thought that man was going to die of worry. Nearly turned the house over looking for it…kept muttering about knights and tables…"

"_Mummy_," interrupted Petunia. "Can we hop off the love train?"

A rapid blush appeared across the platinum blonde's pretty features. Mrs. Evans apologized in earnest while avoiding her youngest daughter's eyes. Despite the difference in color, those green eyes held the same intensity as his.

"Petty, sweet pea, why don't you get ready for breakfast while I talk to your sister?"

The witch perked up in surprise. Petunia emitted a long growl. She hated missing the latest chitchat, even if she had no business listening to it. Why did her mum want to talk to a **freak** anyway? Alone? It couldn't be that important that she needed to leave! Gloria Evans settled her oldest child with a stern mint green glare.

"**Fine! I see how it is!"** hollered Petunia. "**You and dad are so proud about having a-a-a-,**"

"A witch?" Lily suggested innocently.

"_One of those __**creatures**_in the family! I guess I'm the only one besides Nana that sees her for what she truly is!"

Suddenly, Lily's green eyes crossed while allowing a dribble of drool to start down her chin. A long list of babble poured from her mouth. "Abracadabra! Hocus Pocus! Billywigs, frog tongues, and snail's toenails! Zeeka-zoo! Billy Bob's flu! Turn my wicked big sister into a-,"

"_AAAAAHHHHH!_"

Apparently, Petunia didn't have much else to say because she ran outside faster than a Golden Snidget on a sugar high. Lily snorted as she fell backwards onto the soft bed. She didn't even have her wand out when she was saying all that gibberish. Then, it would've been believable.

"You really shouldn't take the mickey out your sister like that," said Mrs. Evans gently. "She's just not used to-,"

"Whatever. If Petty's not used to magic by now, she never will be. Don't try to cover for her. What did you want to talk about?"

An oversize glossy envelope and two nicely-wrapped packages were thrust onto the witch's lap. She blinked slowly before staring up into her mother's eager face. Revelation dawned on Lily. Birthday presents! She'd been so preoccupied with her dad's…situation that the notion of receiving presents swept right on by. Trying not to look too excited, Lily opened the envelope first. It had an impressive weight to it, like a wedding announcement or something similar.

_Dear Miss Evans,_

_You have officially been accepted into the Helgian Music Institute at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This is a much esteemed program that has existed since the creation of the school. During seminar classes, you will be studying and exploring your personal talents in the performing arts of dance, drama, orchestra, and song. Being accepted into the Helgian Music Institute does __**not**__ mean you are exempt from participating in your regular classes. It will be your responsibility to accommodate both schedules and maintain high standards grade-wise. _

_Please send your reply by August 28__th__. We expect-_

"But, it's already September and I didn't send in a reply!" cried an alarmed Lily.

Mrs. Evans patted her daughter's knee. "Your daddy and I already did, baby. Do you remember that dodgy house-maid that spilt cleaner in your hair a few weeks ago? That was actually one of your professors in disguise! Quite a strange woman…fascinated with the microwave…but she was very excited about you!"

Her mouth was agape. "Why me? I didn't apply-,"

"Your daddy snuck tape-recorders in your room to record you singing on your guitar. He was the most excited out of any of us. You know how he loves hearing you sing…that man's your biggest fan."

_**You know sometimes I wish you would just disappear! **_

_**Be careful what you wish for…**_

Great. Was she going to have flashbacks like that forever? Lily frowned. "Mum, how are we going to afford this? I hear the costs are pretty high up. There's no way I can do this."

"You're on a part-time scholarship." Mrs. Evans explained. "You might have to help out some around the classroom, but that's about it. Promise me when you come home for Christmas you'll sing carols for us like before."

She gaped in astonishment. Her mum was serious about this. "I promise…but-,"

"No buts. I'll leave you to get dressed for breakfast in the Foyer. Are you sure you don't want to go shopping with m-,"

"**Positive**."

A bright smile did nothing to hide the hurt in her expression. Mrs. Evans didn't understand why her youngest was being so difficult. They had had to drag Lily here tooth and nail. It wasn't like she planned to stay at Claridge's forever. Just until she got back on her feet again…really! Herbert, Jr., her twin brother, was coming for a visit soon. But, Gloria didn't plan to stay for a moment afterwards. That was the plan for now.

"Very well. Um, do remember to open your other gifts. Don't want them going to waste…"

Lily was nonchalantly flipping through a textbook again. "This dress is staying here by the way. I'm not playing Herbert and Cornelia's pretty puppet."

"Alright then. I love you, sweetheart."

She replied the same before her mother left. With a groan, Lily turned onto her back, glowering up at the creamy beige ceiling. Throughout childhood, her mum had been like a distant satellite-always shopping or at a party somewhere children weren't allowed or welcomed. Lily didn't hate her mum. It was just that she felt awkward when Gloria Evans started acting all maternal.

"Miss Evans? Shall I have your attire for today ironed?"

Gunter was one of the butlers that came with staying at a Piano suite at the five-star Claridge's hotel. He was the paragon image of all butlers: tall, grey-haired, neatly dressed, and owner of a mustache that curled on both sides.

"Has your stay been comfortable, Miss Evans?" He watched the teenager reluctantly get up to bounce toward the ornate armoire.

"Uh huh…everything looks nice. You could do with a better record player though."

"I'm afraid we can't have you teenagers "rocking in" too hard."

"It's called "_rocking out_", Gunter." Emerald orbs rolled. "_Here_. I'm wearing this today." Lily thrust an outfit and coat into his arms. Pausing, she grabbed it back before lifting it to her body. "Tell me the truth. If I was your granddaughter, Gunter, would you approve of this ensemble?"

The butler eyed his young resident wearily. "The truth? If you were my granddaughter, I wouldn't even let you walk out the house with that on."

Lily let out a hoot of amusement and handed the articles of clothing back to him.

The butler exhaled. His guest's grandparents wouldn't be pleased at all. Claridge's was about to enter a five-star World War III.

* * *

September 1st, 1974 is the first time since its creation that the Hogwarts Express would not precisely chug down the tracks at 11 am. And, everything would be thanks to one wizarding, albeit very strange, family. 

"**ARE YOU PEOPLE MAD?! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?!"**

"**This is my little girl's first year!"**

"**We woke up a 5 o'clock to get here on time!!"**

"**Why aren't you moving? I have to get back to work!"**

"**I'm going to miss my sewing class! ...What?! A man can sew, can't he? Let's see you conjure a sweater!"**

"**My children are starving!"**

"**YOU BOY! IF YOU DON'T MOVE YOUR SCRAWNY ARSE OFF THOSE TRACKS…SYLVIA! NO, HE IS NOT A GOOD LITTLE BOY AND YOU ARE NOT THE BEST OF MOTHERS!!"**

It was with this act that the Hallows of Manchester again sealed themselves as the weirdest family in all pure-blood society. Once among the most influential of wizarding families, their status had declined as years passed along with their sanity. Fellow, often older, pure-bloods always ended up scratching their heads in confusion when the Hallows were brought up in conversation. It didn't make sense. The family name had some time ago been associated with the best social committees and foundation of abundant popular monuments such as Merlin's Temple. Yet no one could tell the exact year when the Hallow family became plain _weird_.

A twinkle appeared in Albus Dumbledore's eyes as parents, uncles, aunts, and grandparents flocked around the scene of the commotion. The old man knew the situation was serious; he couldn't help but find it comical.

"Mrs. Hallow, may I ask why you and your son are holding up the Hogwarts Express?"

Sylvia Hallow blinked up at him owlishly with big grey eyes before turning them adoringly to the young lad in her arms. She patted him on the head affectionately like one would a dog.

"**FOR THE LAST TIME, SYVLIA, HE IS ****NOT ****BEING A GOOD BOY!**" yelled Charlus Potter. "**WHAT IN MERLIN'S…CONTROL YOUR CHILDREN, WILL YOU?!**"

A laughing pair of dark-haired twin girls ran wildly about his feet. Apparently, they were playing a game of tag. Yes, indeed, as one might guess the Hallows were delaying the train. Not with magic, mind you. Nope. The story went that the young Hallow heir had plopped himself right in front of the violet steam locomotive just as the whistle rang at 11. Strangely enough, he was physically unmovable despite men's efforts. And, the lad didn't listen to bribes, jokes, or threats. It'd only gotten worse when his mother chose to keep him company at around 11:10. She was also unresponsive to bribes, jokes, or threats.

Mr. Potter growled. "My James should've been on his way to school by now! This makes no sense for them to do this, Albus!"

"Everything happens for a reason, Charlus," responded the Headmaster calmly. "I'm sure Mrs. Hallow will move her children once we all find the right way to…communicate."

"It's not like the chit doesn't understand English! Can't you tell she's ignoring us?"

"Of course. But, once we find out what reason she is ignoring us for, then perhaps we can alleviate the situation. You know how Sylvia is, Charlus. Always the dreamer…" The silver-haired wizard turned toward the stubborn Hallows. "Mrs. Hallow? Sylvia? You remember me, don't you? I'm your old Headmaster! Remember Hogwarts?"

The wispy blonde witch kept patting her son while offering him a chocolate frog.

Mr. Potter removed his glasses to wipe his face with a handkerchief. "Albus, it's obvious this is worse than useless. You're better off talking to that boy than her! Matter of fact, we might as well just let the children _walk_ to Hogwarts. It'll be dark by the time whatever they're waiting for happens!"

The boy…the boy…waiting…there's an idea…

Dumbledore focused on the lad sitting beside Mrs. Hallow. Despite the morbid countenance, he was a very cute fellow. A neat mass of dark brown hair was square-cut on his brow. When tapped on the shoulder, a fair, elfin face with a perfectly upturned nose and knife-sharp cheekbones turned upward. One could easily predict that he would grow tall and slim like his father, but right now the lad was rather petite. Treth Hallow would be entering his third year at Hogwarts…if they could get him off the train tracks.

"Mr. Hallow? Yes, Mr. Ha-Mr. Hallow…look over here…yes, yes…no, right here…" Dumbledore grinned as he finally got the boy's attention. He gazed into mournful eyes. "Ah, my boy! Why such a long face? You wouldn't happen to be waiting for-,"

"DAMN YOU, HERBERT AND CORNELIA! DAMN YOU! I'LL KICK YOUR OLD ARSES IF YOU MADE ME MISS THIS TRAIN!!"

Unfortunate pedestrians, who weren't quick enough to move, were pushed out of the way with a loud "pardon me" or "sorry" or even "I'm walking here!" The new visitor appeared to be having difficulty between breathing and pulling a large worn trunk. Just before reaching the luggage compartment, she fell in a blur of red hair.

Lily let loose with her father's favorite curse as she tripped over her own feet. "BLAST!"

Mothers bristled whilst covering their young children's virgin ears. The redhead paid them little mind as she threw her luggage on the immobile Hogwarts Express. She coughed as violet smoke entered her lungs. This was entirely Hebert and Cornelia's fault! They'd done it on purpose, damn them! Stopping here…buying a few tokens there…checking on the jewelry store…turning back because of a forgotten umbrella…Blast! Lily slammed the door down in rage, kicking it for good measure. It would've been nice having sweet, chubby grandparents that baked goodies and got her where she needed to go **on time**. NO! She got stuck with _Herbert and Cornelia_.

Lily opened one of the entrance doors only to have it shut in her face. What the-

"**JAMES POTTER! OPEN THIS DOOR!**"

A tall, bespectacled figure appeared behind the glass. Obviously, the boy was holding the door shut with magic because whenever she pulled he would wave cheekily at her. Another masculine figure came up next to him. Cackling, this one blew mist onto the window and spelled out the letters, "_GO TO HELL_".

"**IS THAT YOU BLACK? THIS ISN'T FUNNY! LET ME ON BEFORE I CURSE WHAT YOU CALL TESTICLES INTO A JAR!"**

A growling Lily returned the rude finger gesture the two gave her.

"Miss Evans?"

"Not now, I'm busy!"

"Miss Evans?"

"I said not n-," She gasped in surprise as a blur tackled her exposed legs. "Oh, hello! Did you miss me, sweetie?"

To the crowd's amazement, bizarre Treth Hallow clutched the loud teenage girl almost desperately. A strange sight indeed…the Hallows were infamous for keeping to their manor and themselves. But, here was the heir holding on tightly to a muggle-born, refusing to let go.

"I was trying to warn you Miss Evans," explained Dumbledore with twinkling blue eyes. Lily blushed while kneeling to the third-year's short eye level. Men whistled or eyed her interestedly as she raked a hand through her red curls. The wives and girlfriends in the audience stomped on their companion's toes as a reminder that they were taken.

"Sorry professor…I didn't recognize your voice." She focused on her younger classmate. "Hey Treth, why didn't you owl me over the summer? I told you my parents are used to them. My sister doesn't even scream as loud anymore."

He shrugged, gazing at her with big olive green eyes.

"I know you have an owl. What happened to it?"

He slowly shook his head.

"It flew away! That's terrible."

A chilling grin formed on Treth's face. He pointed at himself and then his younger twin sisters whom had again started up their game of Ring-Around-Mr. Potter.

Lily released a light, uneasy laugh. "…you played with it…well…at least you know what happened to the poor bird! Come on let's get on the train. Bye, Mrs. Hallow! Bye Martha! Bye Ethel!"

Thankfully, the two idiots had abandoned the doors by now. Lily waved at the remaining Hallows as she grabbed Treth's hand and led him inside. Another wizard was slapped by his wife as he titled his head to look up the redhead's miniskirt. A low growl sounded from the Hallow heir that was covered by an earsplitting train whistle. Parents immediately began waving their restless children goodbye as the tardy Hogwarts Express chugged out of Platform 9 ¾. Albus Dumbledore apparated away with a small chuckle.

"Such sweet mistress…so nice to my boy…"

Charlus blinked. It was an unspoken rule among pure-blood society that Sylvia Hallow never spoke to anyone. In fact, Lord Potter couldn't even recall hearing her voice during all his years on earth. It suited the woman. Quiet, low, and wispy.

"Her powers are growing stronger. Men are staring. Hmm…does she realize the changes?" whispered Mrs. Hallow. "My Treth will help …he's good Ocular…perhaps she will keep him around…"

The violet-eyed wizard eyed the witch, wondering if she was speaking to herself or him. "Yes, lovely. But, don't you think she's a bit rough around the edges? Hardly much of a lady from what I just saw! Now Madeline vonArrow-,"

"_Wench!_" Mrs. Hallow's voice suddenly took a deeper pitch. "Family trounces around…making decisions…causing problems…creating chaos…"

"I assure you that Miss vonArrow is nothing short of a lady. Why, I was just thinking of asking my James-,"

Big grey orbs stared at him sternly. "Not his destiny. _Die fighting!_"

"Right then," Charlus backed up. "Jolly good. I've a meeting to attend with the Head of Magical Law Enforcement." He puffed up prouder than a peacock. "Good man, he is. Seeking my wisdom and experience in the field! Why, with my help he could become the next-,"

_Pop! _With that, Sylvia Hallow departed the emptying platform. Lord Potter unexpectedly found himself staring into the dark, brooding eyes of his twin tormentors. _Bustling Boggarts…_

"Unicorns," said one simply as if it were the solution to the world. The other nodded.

He plastered a fixed grin. "Interesting. Um…is your mother-,"

_Pop!_ Sylvia Hallow appeared again, grabbing each daughter by hand. Whispering in their ears, she didn't even blink at him as she disapparated off.

* * *

**CHAPTER SIX**

"_Anything from the trolley! Aaaaaanything from the trolley! Anything from the…"_ The plump witch with her cart of sugary goodies paused. "I suppose there's no point in asking you dearies, eh?"

Lily tossed a cheeky wink. "Nope, but thanks for trying! We do accept donations."

One of the great perks about being friends with Treth Hallow was that you were guaranteed an endless supply of sweets. He was the son of Maximilian Hallow, taciturn owner of magical Europe's largest candy production factories. A strange occupation considering the family's…unique charm. The redhead grinned down at the small lad hugging her waist. She'd grown used to his affectionate displays of friendship. It was actually kinda cute considering the fact she was his only friend at Hogwarts and vice versa.

"_Nemaha_…" mumbled Treth sleepily. That was his nickname for her. Lily had no bloody idea what it meant but obviously it was good in "Treth-tongue". They managed to get an back compartment. The ever-rolling view from the window held the sun's rays shining on the green grass; leaves plummeted elegantly from the trees in preparation for winter season. Lily popped a pumpkin pasty into her mouth, sighing blissfully. Relaxing anywhere anytime was a favorite hobby.

_So I'm a little left of center.  
I'm a little out of tune  
Some say I'm paranormal, so I just bend their spoon  
Who wants to be ordinary in a crazy, mixed-up world?  
I don't care what they're saying…as long as I'm your girl-_

"Oy! Lookie here Padfoot! Evans is singing to her itty bitty _**booooyfriend**_!!" The intruder made sure to emphasize the last word in the most aggravating way possible.

James Potter was the most popular boy at Hogwarts. He was tall with a mop of untamable black hair. His striking hazel eyes, filled with laughter, were covered by round glasses. James was famous for his ability to make anyone laugh. Yet one couldn't let charm fool you. This boy changed girls faster than his socks. He was Captain and star Chaser of the Quidditch team and unofficial leader of Hogwarts' residential pranksters, the Marauders. James also happened to be the bane of Lily's existence and kept that award for five years in the running.

"**Potter**! Why don't you do us all a favor and get lost and stay there!"

"Certainly not _all of us_ a favor, Evans. You know it hurts to hear someone talk to your best mate like he's a criminal." Another boy leaned lazily against the door pane. "But, I suppose you wouldn't know."

"Hold on. Let me check…" Lily pretended to look around. "Yeah! **No one** invited you into this conversation, Black."

Sirius Black was James' right hand man and almost every witch's wet dream. He was a bit taller than James and possessed mocking electric blue eyes. His silky black hair reached the base of his neck, falling onto his face with a casual elegance. The redhead cursed whoever made him so damned handsome and then had the nerve to tell him about it. Mr. Black was the official heartbreaker around Hogwarts. If you thought James was bad with girls, than Sirius was even shoddier. He once dated four girls in one day.

"Still got a mouth on you, eh?" James sneered. "You should be happy we came to see _you_."

"Where's a camera when ya need it?"

"**Chit."**

"_Prat."_

"**Harlot."**

"_Bastard!"_

"**Bitch!**"

Remus Lupin crept up behind his friends. "It's been five years, ladies and gentlemen. Can we all just get along?" He was very sensible; Lily believed Remus was the mastermind behind the cleverest pranks. He was good-looking but rather pale with sandy blond hair and sad light brown eyes. Adding to the eighteenth-century street urchin effect were shabby plain brown robes.

"I didn't see you in Diagon Alley, Evans." Sirius declared, ignoring his friend. "Think you're too good to shop among us?"

"I'm so _happy_ you were looking for me! How about this? You stop being a nosy git and I'll start bumping into you. Oops…never gonna happen!" Lily smiled a bit too sweetly. "Buck up, Black! Maybe when hell freezes over."

In reality, the reason she didn't go this year was because Cornelia hired a wizard working at the hotel to go shopping in Lily's place. _As a favor…_green orbs rolled. _**Right**_.

"Last time I checked loners weren't at the top of the lists."

"Get out, Potter!"

His smirk was handsome yet cruel. Handsome? Where'd that come from? She shook her head. Potter wasn't handsome to her. Any good looks he could've possessed in Lily's eyes were shadowed by arrogance. "Did I hit a nerve, Evans? Or are you protecting your little _**boooooyfriend**_?"

"Treth's not my boyfriend!" cried Lily. "Besides, when did you care who I date? Jealous?"

"Please, my girlfriend is a lady."

She stroked her chin in thought. "Hmm…by _lady_…do you mean lapdog or lap dancer?"

A long mahogany wand pointed between her eyes, but Lily could care less. Her own was aimed at his temple. That came with being rivals for so long. They knew each other's moves too well. James knew she would fight because of her exploding temper. Lily knew James would fight because he was a chauvinist pig protecting his momentary girl-of-the-hour. Being on the train wouldn't deter them because it wasn't like they'd not dueled in public before.

"G-g-guys? I think Prefects are comin-_OW! OW! OW! OW! OW!_"

The Marauders and Lily watched in amazement as small awake Treth Hallow threw bigger Peter Pettigrew on the floor and began kicking him mercilessly. He was a chubby boy who resembled a rat with his watery blue eyes. His daily schedule revolved around following the Marauders, eat, worship his friends, sleep, and study for all tests and still fail. The only reason Peter wasn't picked on was because of his belonging to the most popular clique at school. A reason Lily to this day never understood.

"_Help me! Help me!_" wheezed Peter. "_Don't just stand there, Prongs! Padfoot! HELP!_" A particularly hard kick met his plushy side. Why did these things always happen to him?

Sirius growled like a dog. "Get off him, Hallow! Let Wormtail go before I-**OY!** **LET ME GO! ARE YOU MAD? PRONGS! MOONY! MOONY!**"

"**CALL OFF YOUR BULLDOG, EVANS**!" roared James.

Remus exhaled slowly, massaging his temples as he watched his other two friends being pulled into a head-lock. One had to admit that Hallow boy was quite the multi-tasker. Prongs was under one arm, Padfoot the other, and he had poor Peter still suffering a good beating. The sandy-haired boy glanced behind him to see Lily laughing freely at their misery. _Why couldn't they be friends_?

The brawl was soon broken up by the Head Girl's whistle and the Head Boy's jelly-legs jinx at Treth. Lily grabbed the third-year to stop him from clumsily charging forward. Treth was a persistent little blighter.

James Potter hurriedly put himself together. "This isn't over Evans! You and your weird boyfriend are going to get it!"

"Is this the part where you break into song?" mocked the redhead. "Serves you right!"

Hazel eyes narrowed as they glowered across at the pair of dazzling emerald. Dazzling? Where'd that come from? He didn't think Evan's eyes were dazzling. James shook his head. Any appeals those eyes might've held were smothered by jealousy or hatred. At least, that's how it's always been.

"All right! Off you lot go! Nothing to see here." cried Reginald Watson, the Head Boy.

Glowering at Lily, three of the four Marauders stomped off. She sighed tiredly as the words "prank fest" entered her hearing. Great. Another year. Another pain.

Ambrosia-Head Girl-Pinkerton screeched before stomping off. "Lupin! Evans! May I remind you that it's your duty as school prefects to control your peers? Hurry upand change into your robes for the meeting!"

Remus waved a goodbye which Lily stiffly returned. They were on neutral ground. Treth gazed up at her, worry shining in his olive green orbs.

"_Nemaha okay_?"

"Nemaha's okay." Lily confirmed, patting his head. He held it on there for a while. They'd been friends since he took a bat-bogey curse for her in his first year. People wondered why he devoted such loyalty to Lily. She herself didn't know why, but appreciated it greatly. It felt like Treth was meant to be there. That someone to watch your back. Someone who didn't think she was weird for eating breakfast in the Great Hall with pajamas on.

Lunatics like the two of them were meant to stick together.

* * *

Tears fell like a waterfall. Everything was wrong! Nothing felt right anymore. She couldn't feel accepted without feeling rejected. Whenever she was praised for good work, she felt wretched. It was like the whole world was spinning out of control…plunging ahead! And for once, Antoinette lacked the power to stop it. 

The massive Duclaires residence doubled as a museum. The Château de Rêves, or Castle of Dreams, was crowded daily with ministry workers, diplomats, administrators, security aurors, and the general public on Mondays and Thursdays. She despised Mondays and Thursdays. While the people were not allowed near private wings, Antoinette could still hear nearby gasps of wonder. Tabloid photographers bribed guards with money to the point where she applied makeup before millions like a pretty puppet on display. It took forever to get from one location to another because etiquette demanded she nod, chit-chat, smile, or make guests feel welcome. Thankfully, today was Tuesday.

She didn't bother taking a blundering carriage. The run was forever exhilarating. Antoinette expertly untied the back laces of her unyielding corset. She left her robes half a mile back. It was like releasing a coat of armor-a heavy burden she wasn't ready to carry. Within minutes, a familiar gleaming surface appeared in the near distance. A loud splash resonated when Antoinette dived into the pond as naked as the day she was born.

Laughing and splattering, she swam several laps alongside the fishes. The Collar of Amphitrite glowed happily. Beauxbatons Academy of Magic with its stuffy atmosphere, sniveling classmates, and spinsterish, sour-faced teachers was just two days away. The maids were already packing her off and she couldn't have cared less. Right now, Antoinette wouldn't have cared if her _Ministre _father or crowd of gentlemen walked past. This was how life should be. Floating and suspending blissfully in time like waves in the ocean.

* * *

"**YOU'RE NOT TAKING HER!**" 

The little girl's cries grew louder.

Sounds of clashing metal and bright lights filled her once peaceful nursery.

Muffled yells filled with pain echoed. He was pinned to a wall.

Fangs glistened.

The full moon shone.

Blood spilt.

Then, all the weeping child could hear was a siren's fading promise.

_"I will find you."_

_

* * *

_

"Evans? Evans? Wake up. We're about to go in. Evans!"

As an emerald eye snapped open, Dedalus Diggle accidentally knocked off his pointed black school hat. Perhaps it wasn't a good idea to ask "oddball Evans"? She looked pretty irritated at being woken up. The last thing Dedalus wanted was to be hit by one of her creative jinxes. But Lily only yawned, gazing about the chattering crowd of robed adolescents with boredom. She also wore the "beloved" Hogwarts uniform: long plain black work robes that hid the feet. The lack of creativity was so uninspiring….

"McGonagall making us line up again?" Lily didn't bother hiding another un-ladylike yawn.

The sixth-year nodded. "Y-yes."

"Thanks for telling me."

"Uh, um, Miss Evans? I was hoping you would allow me to escort you inside."

Dedalus flinched when those striking orbs rolled over him. Lily exhaled. Most of the time, she walked inside by herself when they did this dim-witted ceremony. During entrance line up, they were supposed to partner boy-girl. Because no one wanted to be seen with famous James Potter's sassy rival, people usually avoided her like the plague. This year, though, Dedalus wasn't the first lad to ask. When did she become Miss Popular?

"I-I-I mean I just assumed it might be nice. Since we're in the same year…same House and all…"

She looked around. Treth for once abandoned Lily to link arm-in-arm with another Hufflepuff-this one a pretty second-year girl. Ah! They grow up so fast…

A loud creak resonated throughout the area. The great oak doors were opening.

"Righty-o then. Let's go!"

Ignoring protocol, Lily grabbed Dedalus by an arm. All of the students marched inside House-by-House. Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and then Slytherin. It didn't matter how many times she did this. Lily would always be struck by the magnificent size and beauty of Hogwarts. The Entrance Hall was a large, cavernous room, lit by old-fashioned torches that glowed with an eerie light. Its ceiling was so high up that it appeared barely visible. A familial sense struck Lily. She briefly let go of Dedalus's arm to rub her father's bejeweled ring. Everything would be okay that sense said.

Those bad things-the dark dreams, daddy's disappearance, Herbert and Cornelia taking over, the physical aches, the strange new people, the blank Book of Shadows, the burning guilt-

It all didn't matter. For right now, at least, because Lilyanna Evans was home.

* * *

**AN: FOR THOSE WHO ARE WORRIED: LILY AND JAMES ****WILL**** GET TOGETHER. HERE'S SOME QUESTIONS I DID WANT YOU GUYS TO THINK ABOUT WHILE READING. (E-MAIL/REVIEW ME IF YOU THOUGHT OF THEM OR NOT.) YOU DON'T HAVE TO ANSWER THESE QUESTIONS BUT, IF YOU'RE CLOSE, I'LL PROBABLY ANSWER THEM FOR YOU. I'M JUST CURIOUS AS TO WHAT MY READERS ARE GUESSING! **

**Why was Dmitri upset when he lost his ring? If so, why'd he give it to Lily?**

**Will Mrs. Evans stick to the plan?**

**What is an Ocular? Why is Treth so protective of Lily? Why did he (hilariously) attack innocent Peter instead of Sirius or James? **

**What incident sparked Lily and James dislike towards each other? (Hint: I've already told you.) **

**Why are men/boys suddenly attracted to Lily? (Hint: No. It's not just 'cause she's pretty.) **

**Here's the toughie. Why can Lily openly discard her confining dress, but Antoinette has to hide somewhere to do so? (I know. Probably none of you thought about that. But, if you did, grab a cookie! That theme is important.)**

**If you care, tell me what else you were thinking about. Even if it was something like, "Why is this so long?", "That grammar is awful.", or "Ha ha! Peter got kicked!" **

**GREAT LOVE TO ALL READERS!!**


	6. Ch 7&8: The Beginning of Great

**Disclaimer: See the top of chapter 1 & 2. I don't own Harry Potter or its characters.**

Warnings: **AU.** Mentions of sexual behavior. Teenage humor. Mature themes. Violence in later chapters. Some foul language. Romance. Creature violence.

* * *

**Bloodlines: Heritage Year**

* * *

**The Daily Prophet Archives**

_November 1__st__, 1951_

_MISSING HOGWARTS GIRL FOUND DEAD _

_------------------------------------------------_

Ministry of Magic investigators find the body of Felicity Potter

one year after she was first reported missing. Foul vampire play suspected.

Blood drained from body.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

It is well-known throughout the wizarding world that the Forbidden Forest besides Hogwarts grounds is just that. Forbidden. For centuries, creatures of dangerous or ambiguous nature have roamed the woods, keeping a silent yet understood pact to not enter school grounds. Our children at Hogwarts are reminded at the beginning of each term what dangers lie within the trees. However, these warnings have been unheeded by numerous, in this report's opinion foolish, pupils throughout the years. Who can forget the incident in 1945 when young Edward Wartburg's unrecognizable corpse was thrown onto a greenhouse from the tree-tops?

Sixteen year old Felicity Potter's body was actually found floating under ice in the Great Lake still dressed in the green taffeta robes last seen in. It was discovered by, the newly-appointed Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore at 7 o'clock while taking a morning stroll. There were terrible bruises on her head and body, which led investigators to believe torture. In fact, the body appeared almost unrecognizable. To establish identity, investigators found a sun and crescent moon amulet with the initials "F.P." in a pocket of the robes. The murder was believed to have been committed in the Forbidden Forest because of the many leaves and unicorn blood stains. Yet the body was incredibly well preserved, with almost no sign of decomposition.

Vampirism is suspected because of two puncture wounds found on the side of Miss Potter's neck. Almost all of the blood in her body was gone. However, a vampire liaison from the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures states that this was not their work. "_Because vampires do drink their victims to full consumption, they consider torture unnecessary and perhaps tasteless. And, there is nothing worse to a vampire than being tasteless._" He jokes. "_There are no reports of clans in the Forbidden Forest in thirty years. Do you people think officials don't actually check? Victim rates have also dropped dramatically thanks to diplomatic work and helpful creations such as Blood Pops. It's almost a taboo these days for a vampire to attack a human. Look at me! I've lived among them for years!"_ The liaison was earlier given permission to inspect the marks. He is still claiming they were too long and narrow to come from vampire fangs. They "_didn't even hit a blood vessel_!"

But, to the surviving Potter family, this is no laughing matter. Miss Felicity leaves behind two grieving parents: Lord Charlus Potter, Earl of Elysian, and his wife Lady Dorea. Clearly using his reputation as one of the world's greatest Aurors, Lord Potter has called for a search of the entire Forbidden Forest. It is said he also plans to head the investigation for his child's murderer. The private funeral for Felicity Potter is held on the coming Sunday. The casket will be closed. Lord and Lady Potter, who have seen the corpse, state they will never forget the frozen scream etched forever on their precious daughter's lips.

If not vampires than what creature could've killed Felicity Potter? Some guess werewolves or stray pogrebin left from WWWI. Representatives from almost every clan in Britain have spoken up, claiming innocence. Is there a creature capable of such brutality that the wizarding world has yet to discover?

* * *

A month had passed since the return to Hogwarts and for Madeline it was a glorious one…as always. The blonde sat upon a lawn chair she'd charmed a 7th year to conjure for her. Why should she, a vonArrow, have to sit on the ground like a commoner? It was bad enough that the weather was becoming crisp-too crisp for Madeline's taste. Couldn't somebody do something about that? Her father taught her a nifty spell in the Sacred Language that could change the climate in a small area to her liking. But, pale blue orbs narrowed, the Council had had kneazles when they found out. 

Madeline huffed. What was the point of being a Seraphiel if you couldn't even flaunt your powers a little?

"This sweater is ah-maz-ing! Isn't it lovely? I mean it looks heavy, but it's actually _so_ light…Sirius said I looked like an angel in it! Isn't he romantic?"

Cecilia Hobgoblin exhaled dreamily as she thought of her new boyfriend. She was very pretty with light brown hair and matching eyes. However, the girl was sixteen years old going on forty-four with a shot of Miss Martha's Wrinkle Reducer between the eyes to prove it. The reason being unfortunately genetic. Madeline and Cecilia had known each other since diapers, but that didn't mean they were best friends. Madeline had many best friends. It was the backbone of being a popular witch at Hogwarts. Many girls felt close to her, even though she felt close to no other girl. Yet Cecilia, despite their years together, never noticed the gap.

"I mean he's just _so_ gorgeous! With the hair and that face! And his body…oh, how indecent of me! But, he said the sweater looked great. Doesn't Sirius have such cool taste? I can see it already!" She analyzed her left hand as if it held a magnificent diamond ring. "Mrs. Cecilia Black…Mrs. Cecilia Hobgoblin-Black…Mrs-,"

"Yes, the jacket looks great on you." The blonde interrupted in a flat voice.

Her friend's smile dimmed. Cecilia gulped down some butter-beer to camouflage any shown disappointment. As always, Madeline's plain disinterest was a sign that the subject needed to change and _fast_.

"But, I love the bracelet your parents sent you. Very chic. Those rubies are gorgeous! Hey, here's an idea! Why don't you wear your fur sweater too? We'll match!"

It was Saturday. Usually, October Saturdays were spent in front of the Gryffindor common room's fireplace. Today, though, the weather was a bit hotter than normal, which led to students lounging around or near the Great Lake in casual clothing.

Madeline sniffed. She didn't "match" with **anyone**.

"Are you referring to the one from Paris? I never bought that dinky thing. Fur is just so…_quelle horreur_! I mean can you imagine wearing anything that was once _alive_? It's so selfish-just think about it! The torture! The killings! All so people like…well…all so people can look stylish when they're not even close. Fur went out decades ago unless you're one of those girls that dress like their mother! But you go ahead, dear. It does look great on you and I know some people don't care about the suffering of poor, innocent animals."

Cecilia shifted uncomfortably, wishing she had put on something underneath. The brunette wanted nothing more to just throw the sweater off now! Maddie always did this when they went shopping. Giving stinging barbs at whatever looked better on Cecilia than her. There were so many robes and coats in her closet she'd bought yet had never worn because Maddie disparaged them. But, obviously it was worth the wasted expenses. The famous Madeline vonArrow was just trying to help her out.

"Did you finish that Potions lab yet?" Cecilia asked.

"No. I don't feel like doing it." Maddie yawned in boredom. "I guess I'll just pay some scholarship mudblood to do it for me."

She laughed. "McGonagall _did_ want us to help the less fortunate this month. I was going to donate a few old hats to that charity in Hogsmeade. What about you?"

"I'm certainly not donating any of my clothes. Or hats. Who knows where they'll end up!"

Madeline dramatically reached up to wipe her brow-more to attract attention to her new hat than to get rid of sweat. From what Cecilia understood, the kind was the latest fashion among witches in London. It was elaborately decorated with an extremely broad brim. Of course being that it belonged to Maddie, the hat was even more theatric in style: dark purple in color with a simply larger-than-life double bow around the crown. She had it tilted so it would cast a mysterious pay-attention-but-don't-look-at-me-because-I'm-too-shy shadow over her face. Very chic.

"That purple looks great with your hair," gushed Cecilia, always one to give praise. "I was thinking about charming blonde highlights into my hair. It's so bor-,"

"Don't." Maddie twisted a pale tendril around a finger. "This is Hogwarts, remember? Not a freak show."

"…Perhaps you're right. It's probably too much, you know? I wasn't even that serious about it. Honest!"

_Permission Denied. _Actually, the brunette had already marked the page and memorized the wand movements of the specific Hair Effect charm. But, Madeline didn't need to know that.

"Are you ready for the-,"

A gust of wind suddenly blew the latest fashion off the blonde's head. Everyone watched as it flew high into the air, spun, twirled, and then nosedived into a far grove of bushes. Miss vonArrow huffed as she stood. Apparently, the latest taboo among her peers was using magic for "inane" purposes. The logic was, "why cast a Summoning Charm when you could get exercise by picking it up yourself?" _Disgusting_. Wizards not using their powers? For simple things? Some mudblood somewhere had probably thought it all up!

"Wait for me, Maddie!"

They walked together towards the bushes, smiling graciously at professors and friends or sneering at Slytherins and oddballs.

"Treth, go up there and ask her! _Treth! No, STOP! Don't do it!_"

The blonde scowled nastily. _Speaking of oddballs…_

But, certain aspects about Lily Evans were different-not that she was any less weird or anything. No. She was just as wild and loud as ever. This year the girl seemed to emit a sort of elegance that none could copy no matter how hard they tried. A mature, breathtaking elegance. Madeline was positive Evans didn't even notice. How could she? Now for instance, here Lily Evans lay rolling on the grass as her freaky little best friend tickled her stomach. Her head was thrown back in laughter revealing perfectly even, straight teeth. Almond-shaped eyes the color of the finest emeralds. She looked absolutely stunning.

_That's right_. Madeline's stomach clenched. _She wore those muggle dental contraptions last year_.

She'd grown taller too. The witch definitely couldn't be described as a dainty British young lady. Evans stood about a head taller than the rest of the girls in 6th year in addition to possessing long limbs and wide shoulders. Her figure had also bloomed into a more voluptuous one to the point where lads whistled and didn't hide joy when she bended over to pick up a quill. Madeline didn't know how or why Lily changed from an awkward, geeky little girl to an ethereal, confident almost-woman, but she certainly didn't like it. Silvery blue orbs narrowed. _She_ held the title of being the most gorgeous witch in the history of Hogwarts, _thank you_, and no freckled mudblood was going to steal it from her!

"Treth…let go! All right," Lily warned playfully as she caught the boy's wrists. "If you keep it up-stop!-if you keep it up, I'll tell your little crush you're a cheating prat! You know I will."

He gazed at her; olive green eyes obviously amused. Reaching into a pocket, he pulled out a box of Sugar Quills.

"Are you bribing me?'

Treth gave a shy grin.

"Well, I must say it is working!" Lily grabbed the offered candy. "You have my silence. Hmm…I bet you spoil your little girlfriends with sweets, huh?"

He shook his head.

"No? You should you know. Sweets, particularly chocolate, score you physical brownie points with us ladies when you get older…not that you do anything, uh, physical when you get older!"

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Lily sighed while leaning against a bush. "Just forget what I said. Um, here, sit down and tell me what you're planning. I was thinking a candy bouquet-,"

"Who died and made you a matchmaker_, Evans?_ I doubt you have the credentials."

_Return of the dreaded Barbie…_ Emerald eyes closed as the redhead made an attempt to calm down. Just hearing that drawled, annoying voice made her want to drown in the Great Lake! Madeline vonArrow had been number two on her hit list since 1st year. Lily despised how the girl loved to think herself Queen of Hogwarts because she'd charmed professors and fellow students while radiating beauty and grace. vonArrow, with her enormous wealth and social privileges, was considered by many to be the exemplar of respectability. But, those people didn't have to share a dormitory with her for seven years. _Lucky bastards_.

"Well, I suppose you should advise Treth then," Lily's tone reeked of sarcasm. "We all know you have worlds of experience."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know…how about you ask Potter, our Quidditch team, the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, Amos Diggory, Jack Chantvestry, the Hufflepuff Quidditch team and-let's see-_the entire male student population?_"

"Are you questioning my virtue?" replied Madeline hotly. "I assure you Evans-not that it's any of _your_ business-that I have remained chaste!"

"I heard you when you lied the first time. There's no need to lie twice!"

"Did you just call me a liar?!"

Lily and Treth glanced at each other, silently wondering how dumb a person could be. "Duh! Your lips are moving, aren't they?" replied the redhead nastily. vonArrow had apparently forgotten about last year when she'd routinely sneak in the dorm late almost half-naked.

"**Filthy mudblood…**"

The two witches glowered at each other in a mental battle of wits as Cecilia fidgeted uncomfortably. Duels really weren't her thing. Her only job was to watch over Madeline as her Ocular-something that was growing more difficult each passing day. The blonde had told Cecilia earlier about not visiting the Sphinx's Nest to find her partner. Blasphemy! Every Seraphiel needed a partner! It was their magical-half for Merlin's sake! There was no way they could access full powers without it. But, Cecilia didn't dare voice these thoughts. The Hobgoblins had been with the vonArrows for centuries and the latter were beginning to think they could do just fine alone.

Treth let out a low growl at hearing the disgusting insult. He slowly moved in front of Lily almost bearing his teeth. His entire posture screamed, "BACK OFF!" Cecilia shuddered as she wondered how a little boy could become so animalistic.

An undeterred Madeline impatiently tapped her foot. "Call off your bulldog, Evans."

"Do us all a favor and stop parroting Potter!"

"I can't help it…he _is_ my boyfriend! But, I don't suppose you would understand."

The emerald glare was dangerously glacial, but Madeline kept plowing on.

"I guess I just feel sorry for you. I have a warm and talented boyfriend, which you don't, and I'm in a loving relationship-which you are sorely lacking. Guess no one blames the boys for not trying though. After you plowed over…how many boyfriends was it, Cecilia?"

Frightened light brown eyes were still focused on Treth. With a hard nudge in the ribs, she spoke up in a tight, clearly uncomfortable tone of voice. "Eight. Eight."

"And all of them…surprisingly heartbroken! Especially Willard Adcock, but he was just a weak whimpering mudblood like you. Hey! Is his ex-girlfriend still mad at you for nearly kill-,"

"**I DIDN'T WANT TO HURT HIM! HE**-,"

Lily stopped herself before she revealed too much about what really happened that night. _Willard Adcock._ He was the reason why she rejected dates from various boys this year. He was why girls whispered in the corridor and kept their boyfriends clear away from her. Willard Adcock had finished Hogwarts last year, but his footsteps still left a grave smear on Lily's reputation. Merlin, she'd been so stupid! How could she have believed- Lily ran a hand through her red locks, wincing as she broke a tangle.

"Look, vonArrow, that's none of your business!"

Those creepy silvery blue eyes were maliciously glittering. Lily could see the memories playing through Madeline's head. Most prominently the most recent: on the first night back in the Great Hall. Gracie Hampton, Willard's now 7th year ex-girlfriend, had unceremoniously approached the redhead in front of everyone with one word on her lips: "_**Bitch**_." Lily exhaled. It'd been proclaimed during classes in whispers ever since.

"_What if I make it my business_-**HEY! STOP! WHAT ARE YOU-OW!"**

A sharp pain sprouted in her right leg, causing her to fall down. Young Treth Hallow took advantage of this by adding more kicks while ripping the pretty pink ribbons off her skirt. Once those were gone, he extracted an oak wand and muttered under his breath. Treth then calmly picked up his things and hurried after the fleeing redhead.

"U-Um, Maddie?" squeaked Cecilia.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? YOU-YOU FILTHY BLOOD-TRAITOR!! JUST WANT TILL MY PARENTS HEAR ABOUT THIS!"

"_Maddie?_"

"I'LL CLOSE ALL YOUR FAMILY'S FACTORIES AND YOU'LL BE LIVING ON THE STREETS BEGGING FOR FOOD!"

"_Maddie?_"

"**And you,**" growled Madeline. "**You're supposed to be my Ocular! You're supposed to PROTECT ME, for Merlin's sake! I'll report you to the Council!"**

She winced. Her friend was not going to like this. "Um, Maddie…your hat is on fire…" The brunette pointed toward the burning mass of purple.

Next, there came a screech that rocked the earth. Once relaxing pupils were now running towards the castle as the ground shook beneath their feet. The trees swayed against the breeze as if making an attempt to hide from danger. Cats that roamed outside were temporarily paralyzed and those inside meowed loudly in distress. A student in the Owlery ducked to the ground as hundreds of owls swooped over his head, then out the many windows. Even the toads were panicking! Cecilia, who had been trained to handle this sort of incident, gained a worried expression.

To release a Cry in such a public place like Hogwarts…in front of all these humans…over such a trivial matter…The Wardens, no, the entire British Conclave was going to be furious!

Madeline soon collapsed on the ground exhausted. Just as if to confirm Cecilia's worries, a red envelope floated along with the breeze peacefully before landing at the blonde Seraphiel's feet. Exhaling, her Ocular was the one who opened it.

_Madeline vonArrow,_

_It has been witnessed. On behalf of the British conclave, you have been declared guilty of foul use and unsupervised release of a Cry. Punishment will be decided at the next meeting. You, your Ocular, and your parents are required to attend. Failure to do so will result in a one month banishment of all magical powers. In addition, the Council does not hide disappointment that you neither found your partner nor tried to look for one. Your parents have already been notified of this. I suggest you choose your next course of action wisely. _

_You will be watched closely from now on._

_Signed by_

_**Simon Astor-Chief Warden**_

The brunette winced. Madeline, when she woke up, was going to be mad as hell.

* * *

"Nemaha is okay?" 

They were in an empty corridor. Lily leaned against a cold wall and slid down until she sat on the floor. _Willard Adcock._ Why on earth did vonArrow have to bring him up? That'd been one of the scariest nights of her life. Teary emerald eyes closed as Lily remembered last year. Eight boyfriends. She herself didn't know how she'd gone through so many. The redhead barely remembered their names. In the back of her mind, she could see the outline of their faces and the feel of their hand as she led them to the Astronomy Tower. Sharing innocent kisses, they would laugh, joke, and sing stupid songs off the Wireless. Those were truly magical nights ruined when Lily tiredly would place her head in the crook of their necks as they hugged…

Then, the next thing she knew it was a new morning. Walking from the dormitory into the Great Hall, Lily felt strangely energized and ready to take on the world. Her boyfriend however would appear like a blank slate- tired and listless. He'd sleep during class, walk like a zombie, or constantly run into doors. Willard Adcock was different. Cool and confident, he asked her for a quick meeting on the Astronomy Tower. Once there, Willard tackled Lily and opened her mouth to examine her teeth.

As the redhead struggled, she heard words like "Impossible…" and "I should've known…emerald green!" and "Why is the council keeping this secret?"

Finally, Lily got him off with a sound kick to the groin. She felt this irrepressible anger. This red rage at being attacked by-what was it?-_an inferior_. Darkness clouded her eyesight. Mere moments later, Willard Adcock laid on the grass groaning and bleeding everywhere. He'd fallen nearly 100 meters from Hogwarts' highest tower. As people crowded around the scene, Lily woke up as if from a dream.

She would've been expelled for the incident if Adcock hadn't spoken up. But, that didn't help the fact he was paralyzed in a wheelchair for life.

"Nemaha's okay?" inquired Treth, placing the witch's hand on his head.

Sometimes Lily felt guilty and sometimes she didn't. The struggle was a product of her dad's reassurance and the accusing whispers in the hall. Her heart clenched. _Daddy…_ She could really use one of his lectures right now. So many strange things were happening.

Lily blinked as a Fizzing Whizbee was shoved in her face. Looking past it, she saw Treth's mournful olive green eyes. "It's alright sweetie," Lily patted his head. "Nemaha is gonna be okay. Look, I've got something to show you. I got it in Paris."

Wiping the wetness from her cheeks, the witch reached inside her knapsack to pull out the Book of Shadows. She didn't understand why Xavier made such a big fuss over it. The tome was bound in green leather and still appeared dusty no matter how many times Lily cleaned the thing. She ran a finger over the sun and crescent moon emblem on the cover. Soothing tingles shot through her hand. _Great._ Only true geeks felt comfort from a lousy book!

"I found it in this place called the Sphnix's Nest. Have you heard of it? The shopkeeper practically dragged me there! Said he was "Guardian of the Treasures" and this was my "partner". Crazy old codger! Look here. There's not even any writing!"

Lily opened the front cover to view the once empty page. Now, in creepy curvy script, it read:

**_Beware of the shadows, young Seraphiel, and their minions. They're coming for you next._**

"What the-this wasn't here earlier!" cried the witch. "Beware the shadows? What's that supposed to-Treth? Treth? Hey!"

The Book was suddenly snatched out of Lily's hands. With a stone countenance that shouldn't have belonged to a thirteen year old, the Hallow family heir read the warning gradually. A dangerous growl came from him though Lily had a feeling it wasn't toward the old tome.

A loud piercing toll rang throughout the halls. It made both jump.

"Well…I guess its time for Potions class. _Joy._"

With the awkward silence broken, she stood swiftly to gather her items. Treth placed the Book back inside Lily's bag. He seemed a bit reluctant to do so, but the young witch chose to ignore this. "I'll see you at dinner, okay? Give your little Amelia my regards!"

She left with a big wave goodbye and a small wink. While hurrying toward the dungeons, Lily brushed past a male offer to carry her books and another for a date the next Hogsmeade weekend. As the two disappointed wizards strolled past, Treth made a point to trip both of them simultaneously before heading not to Charms, but the Owlery.

His family would want to hear about this.

* * *

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

"Excuse me, Mademoiselle Tsiaris-,"

"Please call me Philippa."

"Philippa." A girl sauntered forward before slipping her arm through the brunette's. "The others and I were just talking about you and we all felt terrible about the way monsieur treated you earlier. Adelaide's mère just sent caramels. Would you like to share them with us?"

Antoinette winced while she flipping through a spellbook. They didn't even bother to invite her, which was a huge slight considering her prestigious family name. That's what it was like being at the Palace of Beauxbatons. It didn't matter how much money or how many fashionable robes or how high your status was in the normal world. Among girls here, you were either in or out. Antoinette had learned early on to not expect kindness from classmates. Competition thrived among the students-whether it is to gain the most conduct marks or brew the best potion. Everything was fueled by intrigues and personal interests. Though giving the best magical education in France, Beauxbatons Academy of Magic was an abode of treachery, passion, jealously, and cruel gossip. The last feature Antoinette knew extremely well.

"I'm afraid I am unable to. History of Magic exam is tomorrow."

She looked startled. Apparently, she didn't think her invitation would be rejected. "Surely, you've been studying long before that! I don't understand why you can't come."

"Can you not, Mademoiselle Choiseul?"

"But, we were going to play a game of pique later on. We do need another player."

The blonde could feel many eyes, waiting to see a big, chaotic reaction. Antoinette sniffed daintily. She would not let those chits get the better of her! Not this time. Ignoring the soft muttering, Antoinette focused her striking aquamarine gaze on Philippa.

"I am afraid I'll have to refuse your offer again. My homework really needs to be finished and it won't happen on its own." The brunette snorted in clear irritation. "Do leave us be, will you?"

The eavesdropping girls giggled in shocked delight over at the open display of bad manners. Mademoiselle Choiseul blinked dumbly before gifting Philippa with a malicious glower. "Fine. See if I ever invite you to a tea in my room again! I suppose jealousy is what happens when you let a **foreigner**," She said the word as if it was foul-smelling "into a credible school like Beauxbatons! Spend your time with _Madame Royale_ if you want!"

The opposing girl turned her glare onto the other blonde who silently returned it. Nature had not been kind to Mademoiselle Choiseul and everyone knew of her wild envy towards the stunning Antoinette. Physically unattractive and awkward in charm, the daughter of the Ministre Head of Law Enforcement despised that her père answered to Antoinette's. Without another word, she stalked off toward her fellow group of gossiping banshees. Ugly or not, Choiseul's pushy personality made her quite popular.

After a moment of silence, Antoinette sighed. "You could've gone if you wanted to, Pippa."

"You're letting them handle you again," The brunette sang teasingly. "You really should flaunt your Madame Royale title about more. Can you imagine their faces?"

_Madame Royale_. It was the title assigned to the first daughter of a king. Even though the monarchy was abolished years ago, that's what her father was in France. Le Ministre. Honoré Duclaires was the power behind the powerful. To normal wizards, he was known as the prime minister of France. To fellow Seraphiels, he was Regis of the French Conclave and holder of a seat on the Table of Ranks. _Madame Royale_. She was starting to hate that too. No one called her by name at Beauxbatons-except for close friends.

Forget close. Philippa Tsiaris was Antoinette's only friend.

"I don't let them "handle" me! I simply chose to ignore them."

"That only makes them think they've got the better of you...take the challenge!"

"It's not like I let everyone walk all over me," Antoinette pointed out. "I stand up for myself when there's a need to. I just don't do great with confrontation."

Strange, considering the fact her father thrived on confrontation. He played both the quintessential businessman and French gentleman well.

Pippa hummed in thought. "So…you decide instead to just keep it all in until it explodes. Interesting."

The blonde chose to ignore this assessment. She, along with everyone else, knew that her friend wished to be a psychologist. Pippa was always analyzing people. In the library, she checked out books about human emotions and thought processes between classes. One time the brunette gave successful yet inexpensive sessions during the yearly carnival for students to come and chat about their feelings. _Strange_. But, Antoinette supposed one had to work when you weren't…she tried to think of polite wording…_as financially well off as some_.

"Look!" shouted a lad. "Here come the owls!" He was soon rebuked by his prudish girlfriend for yelling.

As per usual, the young witches and wizards of Beauxbatons' first class had retreated into the Chevalier Room after dinner. It was massive in décor and cozy in size. The walls were colored in creamy pinks and white. On the high ceiling, moving paintings of flying witches, grand sorcerers, defeated trolls and basilisks roamed. Six beautifully engraved marble columns were planted along the walls. More mythical characters had been carved into each one many centuries ago. Antoinette sighed. All here was luxurious, truly grand, and **so confining**…

"I don't have anything coming," murmured Pippa while gazing into the huge lit fireplace. "My parents already sent me a letter yester-oh my goodness! Do you see Adelaide over there showing off _more_ chocolates?"

The blonde laughed. "If they send her anymore, she's going to break the chair!"

"I know. She's thick enough already…we're horrible, aren't we?"

They burst into a flurry of loud giggles, earning even more whispers. Antoinette glared when some began to stare at her friend in clear disapproval. They didn't understand. Philippa Tsiaris was supposed to be in second class, for Merlin's sake! But, by Madame Royale's good graces was continually invited to interact with her social superiors.

"I don't understand why they look at you like that." whispered Antoinette heatedly. "You've been here just as long as us!"

Philippa came from Greece and that's where she returned every holiday or during summer vacation. Greece had lost its magical institution in a tragic fire when she was twelve. Afterward, students were given entrance at whatever magical school they wished to attend. Pippa chose Beauxbatons. The young witch had tan skin and a sweet demeanor. Her tousled yet gleaming long honey-brown hair was either set in a ponytail or down around a heart-shaped face. Antoinette didn't think Pippa knew how attractive she was, especially with those deep coffee-colored eyes of hers. For a human, her friend could've given a Seraphiel a good run for their money.

"Forget about them. How are your parents doing?"

"Great! They're in Belgium on Ministre business…well père is anyway. Mère is probably out shopping or keeping up social graces or both. Did I tell you what they gave me before school started?"

She shook her head. With a sigh, Antoinette related the tale of receiving a lovely white and golden boat with tasseled canopy along with four oarsmen to row her down the canals that carved through the Duclaires' property whenever she wished. It was a "going-back-to-school" present.

"Gee," The brunette joked. "All I get when I go back to school are hugs, quills, and parchment! You are so spoiled."

Antoinette shifted uncomfortably while finishing an assignment. "They fuss over me too much…I don't know why-,"

"MAKE WAY! MAKE WAY!" A jeering voice called. "MAKE WAY FOR _MADAME ROYALE'S_ ROYAL PIGEONS!"

Cruel laughter floated throughout the Chevalier Room as the blonde's beautiful face became red. Her gaze shifted toward the large windows as three spots in the distance came nearer. The "pigeons" the mocking boy had so readily described were actually Peregrine Falcons, the fastest-moving creatures on earth. Many centuries ago, Antoinette's family declared they were above owls and so bought these birds from muggle trainers.

The three falcons flew inside with a screeching cry. Circling around the room, one could see their sharp heads tilting to look for their young mistress. Spotting Antoinette, they leaned toward the right and landed gracefully with the hefty, cumbersome bulk between them. It was an armoire. Next to Madame Royale, the wardrobe appeared just as tall and three times as wide as its new owner. All waited with bated breath. Many girls whispered. Dresses, obviously. But, from what fashion house?

Antoinette rudely snatched the letter from one bird's beak, receiving an offended squawk. Might as well get this over with…

_My Dearest Antoinette,_

_As you know, your père and I are in Belgium. We left the capital Wednesday and are now in Antwerp. Business was taken care of, negotiations were made, and your père apparently got his way in the meetings because he seems extra headstrong today. Of course, we both miss you terribly! I can't believe my baby is already sixteen! It seems like yesterday you were playing with me in your nursery! Let me stop before I start crying…_

_The people in this area speak Dutch. I hired an interpreter to my entourage because you know how I am with languages. The shopping is quite splendid here and I would hate to miss the latest trends! Everything is very urban in Antwerp, even the wizarding quarters. The architecture is stunning and we have revisited many famous sights. _

_However, there are annoyances here that have nothing to do with Antwerp itself. A son from one of your père's previous relationships insists on meeting us. I have never met him myself because I hold no interest in children besides my own. Who knows? It might be amusing to watch. I'm not giving much thought to it, but you know your mère never gives thought to much._

_This gift was actually your père's idea. (See how soft he is on you?) We were passing by a shop and he glanced in the window and declared they were perfect for you. Of course, we couldn't pick one so we got all of them. The shopkeeper was very surprised. But, nothing is too good for our girl! Hopefully with these you will shine the brightest. _

_With all the love in the world,_

_Your parents_

_P.S. Make sure to take warm clothes to Scotland. Do attend the conclave meetings._

Inside was a charming picture of her parents: Celestyn Le Creux-Duclaires, looking gorgeous as usual, and tall, proud Honorè Duclaires with his handsome head of silver hair. There also came a tiny golden key. Trembling with dread, Antoinette opened the chest to reveal a magnificent array of necklaces and earrings, fans and brooches, bracelets and combs-all glittering with diamonds and other precious gemstones. Gasps of awe and envy filled the Chevalier Room.

"**Mademoiselle Duclaires!**"

The blonde jumped back in shock. The yell came from Professor Michaud: the meanest, greasiest, and most sour teacher at Beauxbatons. He also held a personal vendetta against Antoinette because her mère refused him a date when they were in school together. She shivered as his cold gaze hit the diamond-filled armoire.

She would be shining the brightest all right, Antoinette thought, **in** **detention**!

"May I remind you that such display of finery is strictly forbidden at Beauxbatons?"

"I-I-I know, Professor Michaud, but-,"

"So what gives you the idea that you are exempt from the rules?"

"_Nothing, monsieur!_"

"And yet, you stand before me with proof showing otherwise…" His sullen face was dangerously close. Antoinette tried not to breathe in his horrible breath. "Let's not act as though this were the first time this has happened!"

"My parents keep-,"

The professor's face swelled red. "Keep what? Spoiling you ridiculously with little trinkets you don't even need! Tasteless! How are we supposed to turn **you** into a lady? What happened to the letter "supposedly" sent telling them to stop?!"

"I did send one! They just don't-,"

"Mademoiselle Duclaires, I cannot believe you are going to lie in my face! THIS IS AN OUTRAGE! I HAVE NEVER-,"

"**Professor Michaud!**"

A middle-age witch with an appalled expression entered onto the scene. She was mediocre in the looks department, almost tackily covered in sapphires and fur robes, but radiated a power that couldn't be duplicated. All of the students bowed respectfully at her presence as protocol required. While kind, Headmistress Girard was not a force to be messed with.

"Surely you remember that we teachers are to set an example for our students."

His feet began to shuffle awkwardly. "Yes, Madam. I do."

"Then how can we expect for our girls to become ladies and our boys to gentlemen, if their Charms professor acts in such discourteous manner?"

"Forgive me…I don't know what I was…cannot believe-,"

"All students at Beauxbatons are to be treated with respect, Professor Michaud," The headmistress admonished gently "even when they make mistakes."

She might as well just slaughter the man whose lips began to tremble wordlessly. Everyone knew Professor Michaud was desperately in love with the older headmistress. Whether _she_ knew or not was still in question. Benevolent, doe-like brown eyes focused on Antoinette.

"Now my dear, as your professor said, such displays of wealth are not considered tasteful at this school. And, this is not the first occurrence. Why do you keep owling pretty things in?"

"I-I don't owl them myself, Madam! Honestly!" The blonde flushed as whispers of disbelief reverberated. "It's my parents…they miss me a lot when I go off to school…and it's hard to explain, but here."

Madam Girard took the offered missive and began to read it, silently mouthing words. A knowing grin soon appeared. "Have you asked your parents to stop?"

"Yes! Yes! I even asked them face-to-face during vacation. They either don't listen or forget. My parents are both very busy."

A quiet snort came from Michaud. "_You mean your father's busy…"_

"That will be all, monsieur. My dear, I understand your situation and I will make sure to talk to your mère the next time I see her, which is soon. You will not receive a detention. However, I suggest that, if this event occurs again, you and Mademoiselle Tsiaris resist temptation to open a gift immediately. It'll save you trouble and what would've been wasted hours."

Both young witches curtsied at the gentle scolding. Antoinette noticed Pippa's face was growing red. At the headmistress's whistle, a team of house-elves appeared to take the armoire away, presumably up to the blonde's suite. That was another competitive aspect about Beauxbatons: the crème de la crème of first class resided in sumptuous suites. The rest settled into comfortable dormitories. It was a bitter reminder about one's place on the social registry.

"Now that that's resolved…ladies and gentleman I have an extremely important announcement to make!"

Young ears perked in interest as the Headmistress floated towards the fireplace. Besides the latest gossip, no actual news happened at Beauxbatons.

"Heritage Year," Madam Girard began "is a time when four magical schools from across the globe come together to celebrate what makes each unique. During this time, we learn more about ourselves by learning about those who came before us. I myself have always believed that the sins of our fathers are passed down onto us and it is our duty, as their descendants, to rectify their mistakes. It is important to honor the past because without it we have no future. But, enough with all the dramatics! I've told this already to the other classes. So I suppose I should make this short and sweet."

Every student in the Chevalier Room leaned forward excitedly. Some pinched their lips in disgust that the headmistress bothered to inform the lower classes before them. But, Madam Girard had always disregarded the class system at Beauxbatons. This was not a surprise. Antoinette clutched the hidden Collar of Amphrite beneath her robes. Hopefully this news would have nothing to do with Le Ministre or the Duclaires family.

"My little children," She gazed at them all with maternal warmth. "We are going to Hogwarts."

* * *

**It was happening again. That sinking, drowning feeling. The feeling never changed either. As if she was being dropped into the deepest of oceans, kicking against the coldest of currents. Every time she broke away another wave grabbed her by a fleeing ankle or a reaching hand. Whatever dark force was working, the being seemed determined to show her…**

_She was walking along a river. At least, that's what it looked like. But, this river was peculiar. It didn't flow. By the looks of it, the muddy water within its banks was frozen solid. A cold yet soft particle of white floated from the sky, landing on her nose. Snow? Lily felt another melting flake hit her cheek. Where was she? Not at Hogwarts, that's for sure. The Scottish weather didn't permit snowfall for another month or so._

_Lily gazed about her white surroundings. For once, everything was not shrouded in darkness. She was in the middle of a winter wonderland. It seemed that her subconscious knew where to go because she had no control over her legs or body. While walking, Lily would stop to grab snow, form it into a ball, and hurl it on the river's ice. Apparently, some part of her found these silly actions amusing. Uncontrollable giggles, no, squeals of mirth escaped and reverberated like an unwavering echo. It all seemed like watching a great Christmas movie, Lily thought, except she was starring in it without pay. Or answers._

"_My little star, is that you making all the commotion?" called a rumbling, polished male's voice._

_She emitted a mischievous giggle. "Maybe…"_

_Lily blanched. Her voice was so high and squeaky. She sounded like a child! Suddenly, a freezing gust of wind blew. Lily clutched her small arms around herself into a hug. Small? Yes, indeed. Her arms, not to mention legs, were quite shorter than they used to be. She touched a finger to a cold cheek. Chubby. Baby fat. For some inexplicable reason, Lily had adopted the body of a child during this vision. _

_She sighed. Well, it explained why the few trees here were so freakishly tall. _

"_You really shouldn't run out in front of us. You might get lost, princess." This voice was amazingly extraordinary. Definitely female, Lily could only describe it as a mixture of silk, honey, and purring. "The German Tiara's orchestra is going nowhere. We're in no hurry."_

"_German Tiara? Surely, the tigress is not that evil. Unsociable, at the least. Strict, perhaps." _

_He was baiting her. She must've been his wife because she bumped into him affectionately before planting a kiss on his cheek. "Strict, perhaps?! I address her as She-Who-Wants-To-Set-Merlin-Straight. Darling, the tiara hasn't even chosen a human familiar. That's how much of a drip she is…perhaps her conservativeness will be her undoing? "_

"_Tell me you've never voiced this."_

"_I will not."_

_Lily didn't know whether to laugh or curse because she couldn't see them. A shadowy mist covered their bodies and disguised all physical features. She knew though that the two were definitely not her parents. With squinted eyes, Lily managed to pick out a few mediocre things. The man was very tall and his wife only reached his shoulders. Her hair appeared to be curly under a fashionable-looking larger-than-life hat that was tilted ever so slightly. She wore a long-skirted dress. Or were those robes? He looked like he could be wearing robes too except his seemed more practical for the weather. Lily blinked. It was amazing to see them walk together as stupid as that sounded. Both seemed to float on their heels in a glide as if their feet never touched the ground. It was a glide that must've come from years of practice, not talent._

_The husband laughed heartily, amused at his wife's impertinence. The lady kissed him again-this time full on the lips. They were in love and very much so. That much was obvious._

_Who were these people? And, why was she dreaming about them?_

_He turned towards her. Lily watched as he gracefully kneeled, placing one strong knee into the freezing snow. "Come granddaughter. Let's see you break in those new boots of yours."_

_Those new little boots, and the feet inside them, were running as fast as they could go. The child-Lily let out another whoop of glee, causing the older pair to laugh. Granddaughter? Who were these people? They certainly weren't Herbert and Cornelia. Why was she so happy? Lily neither knew nor met them. Still, unable to control this child form, she ran. Ran faster than the wind. And then, just as Lily reached the man's outstretched hands…_

* * *

"Evans? Evans! Evans! EVANS!" 

With a yelp of fright, Lily awoke abruptly. She found herself laying against some sort of shelf with drool trailing down her chin. _Charming._ Wiping it off, Lily turned to face who she thought was another male admirer, but was actually an annoyed James Potter.

The massive Hogwarts library was created by Rowena Ravenclaw herself. Inside were thousands of shelves that reached from floor to high ceiling and floating ladders to accompany each of them. Classes had ended for today so most students were in their common rooms or heading early to dinner. The library remained virtually empty except for Ravenclaws, avid readers, and worrisome study freaks. Potter was none of the above.

Lily blinked in confusion. "What are you doing here?"

He ignored her, climbing onto the ladder beside them.

"Hey! I was talking to you!"

She watched angrily as James expertly plucked out a small book. The messy-haired wizard flipped through it before marking a page and slipping it in his robe's pocket. Then he repeated the process with another book following another and another.

Lily was somewhat impressed. "Wow. I never took you down as a bookworm, Potter."

"_Do you have to bait everyone you come across?_" His hazel eyes were strangely penetrating. "It doesn't do well for your character."

Suddenly, another ladder was pulled beside James and he was soon staring into angry emerald eyes. "For your information, **Potter**, I do not bait anyone-,"

"_Yes, you do_. Remember Miranda Hillsworth? You practically turned her into tears when she approached you."

"That's because she did nothing, but ramble about the weather!" Lily cried in exasperation. "I was merely worried about her character as you so suddenly seem about mine. Didn't you say just last week how chatty women are _so_ unattractive?"

James placed another book inside his robes. "Then there was Sally Glenwork…Helena Vanbuilt…Chelsea-,"

"Spit it out, will you! Is this about your girl-trophy vonArrow or not?"

"She's not my-,"

Lily leaned against the wooden steps of the ladder, smirking. "You can drop the aristocrat act, Potter. I think I know you too well for that. You don't love her. She's just another notch on your belt."

The sunlight radiating from a nearby window hit his startled yet handsome features almost perfectly. The redhead tried not to look away or flinch. It was one of few tricks she picked up from Herbert's employees when haggling with difficult customers over jewelry prices. She unconsciously rubbed her father's ring.

"Stop pretending, Evans. You don't know me and I don't know you and we shall keep it that way forever."

"And, you shall live at a disadvantage forever. I for one always keep my enemies close."

"Real ladies don't have enemies."

Head thrown back in amusement, Lily laughed openly with free abandon. It earned her a warning glare from Madam Pince-the tough school librarian. "Well obviously **you've** never met a real witch before….I didn't attack vonArrow if that's what you are thinking."

"What if it is?"

Emerald eyes rolled. "vonArrow is not as prim and proper as everyone pretends to believe." They glowered at each other unblinking. "Are you really that stupid?"

James pulled back with an arrogant sneer. Lily's heart sunk as she came to the realization she was indeed a baiter. She avoided her rival's eyes while both climbed down the ladders. Both simultaneously jumped down in front of each other. Anyone passing could've cut the thick tension with a butter knife.

"Move, Evans!"

"How dare you! I'm not some house-elf you can command!"

"_Move!_"

"Since when did you care about my character anyway? Did McGonagall send you in here to bug me?"

"No!" James smirked. "It's not like you don't need a good talking-to though! Think you too good to attend a measly etiquette seminar? If we have to suffer as ladies and gentleman once a month, you do too!"

"Please," Lily crossed her arms defiantly. "Don't talk about being a gentleman! You'll embarrass yourself."

With an agitated growl, the messy-haired wizard rudely pushed past the witch. Lily let loose a squawk of irritation before hitting him hard on the back. The redhead felt a wave of magic wash over her hair. Soon laughter broke out among students in the library. Madam Pince immediately tried to control the situation, barking out orders of silence. One didn't have to be a genius to know all the giggles were aimed at Lily. Pulling a lock in front of her emerald eyes, she emitted a high, horrified scream and soon gave chase to the chortling James Potter. Running down the stone corridors, Lily tried not to look at her once red hair, now neon rainbow.

James threw back a peace sign, also blowing a raspberry behind him as his rival attempted to snatch the back of his robes. The last time he'd cursed Evans' hair she had been hotly **livid**. It was so bad that Dumbledore was forced to place a magical restraining order between them for a week. Not all their arguments ended in duels. Sometimes it was just like this: one running after the other. Though James would never say it aloud, there was something oddly refreshing about the whole affair. He'd spent his life around women who wouldn't know what to do if told to run.

They threw an assortment of hexes, jinxes, and minor curses back and forth, dodging and casting. For some inexplicable reason, Lily found herself trying to hold back laughter. They ran until reaching the second floor. Tired and panting, she grasped the wall beside her while catching her breath. Stupid Potter! Lily glanced out the window briefly. Wait…was the great lake…_draining?_

From this position in the castle, one could usually see the smooth black surface of the water-except the surface now wasn't smooth at all. A large whirlpool was swirling in the center. Some great disturbance was occurring at the bottom. While watching the waves crashing into the muddy banks, Lily wondered how the merfolk below were faring. They certainly weren't going to be happy. She couldn't imagine liking an immense vacuum cleaner sweeping up her home.

"Ah, Miss Evans!" called a merry voice from behind. "It seems as if we can keep nothing from you."

She jumped at the voice as the great wizard walked up beside her. Strangely enough, Dumbledore's robes matched Lily's neon rainbow hair. With a chuckle, he withdrew his wand and changed the obnoxious color to its naturally vibrant red. She thanked him graciously.

"Sir, what's going on?"

The lake was still swirling. Suddenly, a long pole thrust out of the surface…_a mast!_ Emerald eyes widened in amazement as a gigantic ship rose magnificently from the watery depths below. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, and the misty lights shimmering at the portholes looked like ghostly eyes. A great splashing noise reverberated as the ship emerged entirely-sailing toward the bank. Minutes later, an anchor was thrown overboard and the plank lowered. She could hardly see them, but Lily could've sworn she saw people's moving shadows within the portholes. Finally, the witch took notice of the red and white flag sailing on the mast with a double-headed eagle enshrined on its fabric. She recognized the symbol from her readings.

_Durmstrang Magical Institute._

"What's going on, Miss Evans, are great things." chuckled Dumbledore in amusement at Lily's amazement. "Heritage Year has officially begun."

* * *

**WOO-HOO! A major thanks goes out to my new beta reader: **_**against. the. mainstream. **_**Luv ya! You're awesome. As to my fabulous readers, keeping reading! It's really inspiring to know that someone is out there appreciating your work, even if you don't know them. Don't forget to review! **


	7. Ch 9&10: Sunday at Hogwarts

**Disclaimer: See the top of chapter 1 & 2. I don't own Harry Potter or its characters.**

Warnings: **AU.** Mentions of sexual behavior. Teenage humor. Mature themes. Violence in later chapters. Some foul language. Romance. Creature violence.

**Bloodlines: Heritage Year**

**CH. 9&10: SUNDAY AT HOGWARTS**

**THIS IS NOT A NEW CHAPTER! THIS IS ONLY MY BETA'S CORRECTED VERSION AND I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THE OTHER INSTEAD OF REPLACING IT! SORRY!!!**

* * *

Long live Sundays!

And, not just the kind you can eat either. The very mention of the word brought warm chills to Lily's heart. Some people abhorred this day. Bad memories such as the droning of a reverend, wet kisses from plump Aunt what's-her-face, or burnt turkey to look forward to at the end of everything brought Sunday to a standstill. Plus, Sunday meant the next day would be Monday-the dreaded beginning at the weekly work routine. But, Lily wasn't thinking about that. No. When she put her mind to it, the young witch could become a master of self-deception. If anything minor bothered her, anything at all, she refused to even acknowledge its existence.

For instance: the suit of armor leering at her from the wall. _Minor_.

The Entrance Hall was virtually empty. Unless you count Nearly Headless Nick and Peeves the Poltergeist-two Hogwarts resident ghosts-as people, the massive place could be deemed void of human life. It was rather odd to Lily since she was arriving later than usual to breakfast. But, she didn't much think of it. You could never be late on Sunday! It was practically an edict from Heaven! _No, siree._

_I used to think maybe you love me, now baby I'm sure  
and I just can't wait till the day, when you knock on my door_

Lily's love for Sunday didn't begin at Hogwarts. It had always been a day that no one in her family missed out on. On Sundays, the Evans joined fellow Londoners at Hyde Park to soak up the sun and grumble about unpredictable summer showers. Mr. Evans, who enjoyed his Sundays off, would read some classic, macabre novel beneath a tree paying no mind to passing female admirers. Mrs. Evans spent her time keeping away said admirers by showering her amused husband with affectionate hugs and kisses. Even Petunia-_the little tart_- could be found in a good mood. But, mostly because she tanned in a bikini top (far from dad's sight) and flirted with snooty private school boys. And Lily?

Well, the redhead could easily imagine herself sitting on a corner, playing guitar for loose change in her infamous "beggar child" outfit. An hour later, she would go off to play (terribly) at tennis or rollerblade before joining her family for their picnic luncheon. And when cold Christmastime came, the Evans simply stayed indoors for caroling and decorating.

A sad smile graced Lily's face as she sang. Those were happier times.

_Now every time I go for the mail box, gotta hold myself down… _

Instantly, the thought was brushed aside. You weren't allowed to be sad on Sundays either. Especially on ones like this! The cool air of fall just managed to get by the fading heat of summer. Much cooler than yesterday, but Lily preferred it this way. She'd take the feeling of goose-bumps on her skin any day over hot sweat. Plus, it allowed the redhead to indulge in another benefit of the weekend. _Muggle clothes_: a freedom of choice all magical folk take for granted. Lily hugged the white cowl-neck sweater against her upper body. It was like wearing a piece of home!

The giant oak doors to the Great Hall were closed. Strange. Usually, this time of morning they weren't. Hesitating for a moment, she then shrugged. Oh well! What happens will happen…

No possible force or being-not wind, not fire, not the Marauders, not vonArrow, not N.E.W.T. Prep homework, not even a damned earthquake-held the power to ruin a Sunday for Lilyanna Evans.

_'cos I just can't wait till you write me, you're coming around…_

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"As all of you know, for thousands of years, both Hogwarts and Durmstrang have co-existed harmoniously as two of Europe's finest schools pertaining to magical education. We professors and headmasters can and will teach you the necessary skills to become upstanding wizards and witches. However, not all of the burden can be left up to us. It will be up to each of you to seek the need for improvement, to nurture and feed your souls and interests, in addition to applying yourselves to your studies. All of you possess diverse origins and backgrounds, but our mission is the same:_ to help each of you become the very best you can be!_" She paused to eye the disinterested crowd, rendering swift judgment to those who weren't paying attention or sleeping while standing up.

"Many of you will enter the workforce. Some might fight evil. And, some of you young ladies and gentlemen will be carrying on your family name. Speaking of which, I **highly encourage** **for all** to attend monthly etiquette seminars held in the Astronomy Tower. Now some of you may roll your eyes now, but bad table manners have broken up more households-_in all circles_-than infidelity. Alongside magic spells and potions, boys must learn to become chivalrous gentlemen and girls into ladies who walk on-,"

BOOM!

_I'm walkin' on sunshine…wooooah!_

_I'm walkin' on sunshine…wooooah!_

_I'm walkin' on sunshine…wooooah!_

_And, don't it feel good? Hey! All right now! _

_And, don't it feel good? Hey! All right now… _

Lily pocketed her wand gleefully while singing her favorite Sunday song at the top of her lungs. Every eye-Hogwarts and Durmstrang alike-was on her as she bounced toward the Gryffindor table. Many were grateful. The speech had been going on forever. It was if time held no meaning and their attention had dropped them into a barren wasteland to wait for a vulture merciful enough to end their misery.

But, the stern-looking witch at the podium didn't seem too amused. Minerva McGonagall was a tall, bird-like woman with ramrod straight posture. Her loathing of rule-breaking and more importantly rule-breakers was infamous. So much so that it became a way of Hogwarts life to hear some poor soul being berated for "letting your hair down" or "forgetting to bring your book because you obviously think I'm Flourish and Blotts!" The Deputy Headmistress was the epitome of discipline and gave off an aura that she was definitely not one to cross. One even felt by the new students.

Oh, yes. Professor McGonagall was indeed the anti-Evans. And, Durmstrang-the poor fellows-had absolutely no idea what chaos was about to ensue.

"_Miss Evans_."

Lily continued onward, obviously not hearing the clipped, nasal voice over her air guitar playing. Instead of sitting down like a normal wizarding being, the redhead grabbed the end of the table with both hands before hopping onto the bench feet-first then plopping her- to the boys' delight-shapely bottom down. A harmonious laugh filled the Great Hall.

"Ten points Treth!" She chirped loudly across the chamber. Everyone watched as a once mournful-looking Hufflepuff boy waved back languidly while removing a sheet of parchment. Using a luxury eagle feather quill, he noted the score and then glared at Lily with his big olive green eyes.

"What's wrong?"

He blinked pointedly.

"I'm beating you! By how much?"

The third-year tilted his head upward.

"The Great Treth Hallow admitting his defeat! By a whopping fifty points? Oh, this is going to be a great day! Yup!"

He glared harder.

"Don't worry sweetie. I still love you." Lily replied with a wink. "Even if you are a sore loser. You should let yourself go more. Uh…not that you actually_ go _anywhere like-you know-Honeydukes instead of history class or sneak off to the Astronomy Tower to miss a Transfiguration quiz you forgot to study for. Ooh…that reminds me…"

Treth snorted loudly.

"What do you mean I'm a bad example? _I am _a Prefect! Ten points from Hufflepuff!"

A new voice broke through the conversation. "And, I will give back those ten points to Hufflepuff in addition to taking ten points from Gryffindor for your tardiness, Miss Evans. Then, I will need to subtract thirty points for disrespect of school property. Another thirty for interrupting my welcome to our guests. Forty for sticking gum under my desk Friday-_don't tell me it wasn't you._ Another forty for your loudmouth conversation across the hall. Sixty points for routinely skipping class and, yes Miss Evans; I do expect you to make up that quiz."

Sirius Black choked on his pumpkin juice as the Gryffindors around him moaned in disbelief. 210 points! What was wrong with the woman? She was their Head of House, for Merlin's sake! All eyes in the Great Hall turned toward the four giant hourglasses that had been moved behind the teacher's table. The 150 gemstones the Gryffindors had racked up so far vanished in an instant. Then, to add to their pain, the counter at the top didn't stop at zero. Soon, a big, glowing _**-60**_ was in plain sight. Lily giggled nervously as her fellow lions turned rather nasty glowers in her direction. Of course, the Slytherins thought it all hilarious.

"_How dumb can you get?_" muttered Richard Parkinson mockingly to Lionel Zabini under his breath.

"_At_ _least she's gotten easier on the eyes. Some mudblood bloke will marry her._"

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat. "What do you have to say for yourself, Miss Evans?"

"Um…go Gryffindor?" The redhead shrugged. She never did care about the point system. To her, it was just a meaningless game to keep up house rivalries and school spirit. Lily snorted. She didn't even go to Quidditch games anymore. Not after that time she got clobbered with an I-Love-Potter sign.

"Miss Evans, do you notice anything different around you? Besides Durmstrang."

Lily glanced around. Everything looked the same from what she could tell. The Great Hall was filled to the brim as per usual. Nothing appeared out of place. Emerald eyes scanned the teacher's table. Dumbledore? Check. Flitwick? Check. Slughorn? Check. Vespers? Check. A black-haired woman Lily had never seen before….

"We have a new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher!" she cried woefully. "But, I liked Professor O' Malley!"

"O'Malley," McGonagall replied forcibly "is in his office. _This_ is Isabella Grinnet: our new Magical Melodies teacher. But, back to my original question Evans. Why are you out of uniform _again_? This is the fourth time this year."

Lily gaped in outrage. "Professor! We're always allowed to wear muggle clothes on the weekend! That's preposterous-,"

"Unless your Head of House puts a notice on each and every bedroom door to not do so on the following Sunday."

"Then…that would be a problem. But, I didn't-,"

The older witch snorted. "**Detention.**"

"See the-,"

"Thirty points from Gryffindor."

"You're not-,"

"Forty."

"I'm trying to tell you I-,"

"Fifty."

"Can I even say-,"

"**SHUT UP EVANS!!!**" cried the Gryffindor table unanimously. Their horror was reflected in the blazing _**-110**_ on the ruby hourglass. James slammed his head down on the hard wood, causing a blistering pain to scatter through his brains. They would never win the House Cup at this rate! Damn Evans! Why did she have to be so cute and stubborn about everything? He peeked up in surprise. _Cute?_ Evans wasn't cute! Hazel eyes rolled. He really needed to get laid.

The thick tension between McGonagall and Lily was broken by a flurry of morning post. Owl post that is. The young witch sat down with a tired sigh. That woman was always on her case…Bloody hell! It didn't help that Lily was almost failing her class either. Transfiguration was her worst subject, made harder by McGonagall's authoritarian teaching method and vast amounts of homework. And, she'd only skipped class once not "routinely" to help Professor Utska with his barn of fascinating creatures. Lily asked McGonagall all the time to put her in regular Transfiguration instead of advanced and always got the same answer:

"_If you put that determination of yours to work every time you fail Evans, we wouldn't have a problem_."

Lily sighed. She would never understand the mind of a teacher. It was dangerous territory. But, never mind that. Today was still Sunday. No event or being in the universe could ruin it for her. The redhead brightened at the thought. House points were no big deal to her and sure Potter and his gang of demonic minions would pull prank punishment, but nothing she couldn't reverse or get over. And, McGonagall's detentions were indeed nasty, but survivable. The smell of disemboweled frogs only lasted for two days.

A bright smile erupted over Lily's face as she poured a gallon of syrup over her waffles. Yup, this was going to be a great day all-,

"_Ouch!_"

A small, square yet hard package fell on her head. As Lily rubbed the sore spot, a Horned Owl perched atop one of the teenager's shoulders, nibbling affectionately on her ear.

"Hullo Romeo."

The owl hooted in reply before stealing a sausage off his master's plate. Lily swatted at it. Greedy beast! It was all her dad's fault the bloody bird was so spoiled. Mr. Evans had been the one who gave him a "nice, strong, manly name" when she'd first wanted to name him Mr. Cuddlesworth: a respectable name by any eleven year-old girl's standards. Dad was also the one who feed him too much, petted him too much, and trained him to hoot the alphabet.

Lily smiled sadly as she petted Romeo's feathers. She hadn't received anymore dark visions lately. The thought both relieved and worried her.

"_Juliet! Don't hoot at him!_"

James swatted at his female Horned owl when she began to make "come hither" noises at Evans' bird. What was wrong with her? She'd been doing that since they got back at Hogwarts! It wasn't decent for a bird of her stature. Juliet came from the finest breeding houses in England. Her pedigree was longer than a mile and full of owl war heroes. What did she want with Evans' ruffian?

Lily tempted her owl with more sausage as he tried to fly toward them. "Potter, can you please control your owl?"

"It's not my fault your bird seduced mine!"

"My Romeo? Seduced? _Seduced!_ Is that what you think?"

"_That's what I know! _Why else would she be interested?"

"Don't make me laugh, Potter! Your little Juliet would be **lucky** to be with my Romeo."

"I'll have you know my Julie is considered quite the catch herself!"

"Oh, so now you're shagging anything with feathers now!"

Hazel met emerald in a silent battle of wits. Finding out that their beloved pets were impossibly in love gave Lily and James even more reason to duke it out. They argued like this almost every morning. Albus Dumbledore chuckled from the teacher's table as the two star-crossed owls flew out of the Great Hall side-by-side without their owners noticing. _Ah! Young love…of all kinds._

"Keep out of it, Black!" snarled the redhead. "And Potter, keep your feathered harlot away from Romeo."

Lily huffed while opening her new letter. Hopefully, a letter from home would help salvage her Sunday.

_Dear Lilyanna,_

Oh boy.

_It has come to our attention that Halloween is an important time for people of your kind. Naturally, we expect you will represent our family in the best means possible. Please accept this gift in lieu of a forgotten 16__th__ birthday present. Our apologies for letting it slip our minds, but that does not excuse your temper tantrums or bad behavior. Your professor has informed us of your continued absence from her etiquette program. A program that we and your mother agree will be beneficial towards your education. Do not disappoint us Lilyanna. Your poor mother is having a hard enough time already with your father running off. She doesn't need to worry about you or any misdemeanors. _

_Your grandfather and I have recently purchased a fine house in Mayfair. Petunia enjoys it and your mother is getting used to being in better surroundings again. We expect you will as well. Your rooms are currently being decorated in red, gold, and brown. Those are your Griffin colors, are they not? If you have a problem with this, I'll be sure to contact the interior designer. Did you know that Petunia has found a wonderful man? His name is Vernon Dursley and he just left university. We find him acceptable and are quite sure he will establish himself in some grand way. Come Christmas, we expect for you to bring home a boy for our attentions. A girl of your charm and character shouldn't have too much trouble. You have been fortunate enough to inherit the Evans good looks so do not disappoint us._

_Also, your grandfather and I have decided it would be better for all of us if you didn't mention your father until this incident is solved. Not only at home, but at Hogsville as well or whatever that school of yours is called. The whole world doesn't need to know your father's a villain._

_Our Loving Regards,_

_Mr. and Mrs. Herbert Evans._

"**INCENDIO!**"

Everyone gasped or screamed in horror as a fire sprouted in front of a crying redhead. Quickly dousing the burnt letter with a water charm, she hurriedly grabbed all her things and sprinted toward the giant oak doors. Lily cursed as she collided with someone in blood red robes.

"_Vatch it!_" A gruff, foreign voice replied before softening. "Oh, you are okay?"

"Never better." She mumbled sarcastically while picking up her fallen quills, parchment, and other useless junk. The foreigner tried to call Lily back, but all he saw was a glimpse of red hair that was soon followed by a tiny, green-eyed boy running as fast as his little legs could carry him.

* * *

"Hey Moony, I got a present for you! Got this beauty all the way from Paris! Forgot about it with all the excitement going on around here…" 

Sirius let out his naturally bark-like laugh, throwing his head back doing so. Reaching into the knapsack beside his bed, he pulled out a long, roll of paper that was tied in the middle by a colorful purple and orange ribbon. The messy-haired boy on the four-poster bed next to Sirius chuckled amusedly. The twinkle in James' eye told him he knew exactly what the gift was. _That's right_, Remus remembered, _all the big pure-blood families go to Paris for summertime._

"If it's something ludicrous Padfoot, I don't want to see it."

"Oh, come on Moony!" Electric blue eyes rolled. "When have I ever given you anything ludicrous?"

"Let's see there was the Fanged Frisbee last year…the Exploding Eatable Dots that nearly knocked my jaw off…the suit of armor you charmed to give me a lap dance every time I went in the Great Hall…the Malicious Monopoly chess set that bit my fingers…and my birthday book: _Discovering your Shag Flexibility: A Beginner's Guide._"

"You might learn something if you read it!" protested Sirius. "Look here, you scoundrel! I'm just trying to help you out!"

"_How?_"

"Someone has to make sure you don't die a virgin."

Light brown eyes narrowed in annoyance before returning to the humongous book in his lap. According to James, he'd been married to it for about two weeks, but Remus couldn't help that the story was fascinating. A blush spread across his cheeks. James and Sirius would probably die of lack of oxygen from laughter if they ever discovered the title. They were still taking the mickey out of him about the last letter from his mum. _"Dear Remmykins…_" One would squeak femininely. "_I just wanted to make sure my little bubble butt is well and that you have enough underwear for winter. I'm sending your favorite pair (the ones with the zooming planets) later on…_"

What could he do? He was an only child…an only **werewolf** child. Where most parents might've abandoned their boy to Ministry confinement, his parents had kept him and cared for him ever since the Bite. He just wished they wouldn't coddle him so much. The sandy-haired lad glanced over at his friends who were leaned over the Map, plotting the course of their next infamous prank. He envied them! They had no idea how others treated him outside of Hogwarts. Yes. They'd encountered it occasionally, but they weren't living his life…the life of a _creature_.

He sat brooding until feeling a slight tap on his shoulder. "What?"

"_What?! _What do you mean _what!_ Aren't you going to open your present?" cried James in mock outrage.

"No thanks."

"Come on Moony…"

"I don't feel like it. Maybe later."

"_**Pretty please, Moony!**_"

"Why do you-oh Merlin! Not the eyes! Don't do the puppy eyes!"

Remus turned to face his friends only to jump back from shock at the similarity between them. It was a mistake of fate that James Potter and Sirius Black weren't brothers. In fact, their quote about being brothers in every aspect except blood was well known around Hogwarts. They played, laughed, teased, and even on the rare occasion, fought like brothers. If the werewolf recalled correctly, the two were distant cousins so fate had made up its mistake in someway. But still…both were from renowned pure-blood families. Both were exceptionally powerful. Both aced tests without even lifting a page. (Remus had to admit that was more annoying than awing.) Both shared an innate love of pranks and no-good mischief. They both almost looked alike!

The werewolf groaned. Especially when they did those sad, huge puppy eyes…

"Give me the bloody gift."

Padfoot and Prongs whooped simultaneously, sharing a happy high-five. Remus sighed though feeling the laughter build up in his chest. After all these years together, he still wasn't immune to their methods of persuasion.

"You're going to love it, Moony," declared Sirius proudly. "Snuck all the way to Pigalle, we did! You don't know what we had to do…lying to Prongs' poor mum…sneaking out under cloak…exploring the unknown!"

He eyed his excited friends then the paper in his hands wearily. "Did you say Pigalle? _Quelle horreur!_ _Vous n'auriez pas dû aller là-bas_. It's dangerous."

"Wow Moony! McGonagall's French lessons have really been paying off for you!" James appeared impressed. "Soon you'll be up there with the cream de la cream of society, mate!"

Both Padfoot and Moony stared at their grinning pal, realizing it was only by Merlin's grace and his parent's help that he had survived Paris. His French was terrible. The sandy-haired lad chuckled as he began to untie the ribbon. Then again, James' dad didn't like the French. He claimed the Potters were close cousins of the great wizard Wellington, who disguised himself as a muggle to defeat the dark lord of the time: Napoleon. Of course, Mr. Potter also believed that his son and Sirius were perfect, heaven-sent angels.

The parchment unwrapped to reveal a poster of a buxom, pink bikini-clad muggle girl whose glazed eyes stared up at him wantonly. Remus pursed his lips as the raven-haired boys gave another high-five behind his back.

_Oh yeah…angels…_

"What do you think, Moony? Nice, eh?" They cackled like hyenas before glancing over the picture. "Hey Wormtail! Wake up, you big lug!" Sirius withdrew his wand and shot a jet of water at the rotund figure next to them. "Come see what we got Moony!"

The poor boy woke up wet, sputtering, and sleepy-eyed. But, as he got his bearings together, a look of surprised delight possessed Peter's chubby face. Remus could easily understand it. Their two friends were the height of cool and, for some inexplicable reason, had been drawn to them of all people. To be included by people that would've overlooked you otherwise felt amazingly-

"A-a-awesome!" Peter wobbled toward them in a moldy sweater. "I-is it that b-b-book he asked for? Or those Anc-c-cient Runes trans-s-slation cards? Or-or…_oh._" A bright blush appeared across his plump face.

"I know! Isn't it great?" exclaimed Sirius, not noticing his friend's discomfort. "James and I thought she would be the Moony type."

He sighed again. "That's impossible, Padfoot. I don't have a type."

"Everyone has a type! She's perfect for you!" James snorted. He spoke as though Remus could just reach through and touch the girl. "Look at her: smart, mature, elegant, gorgeous…a real lady in the streets, but a freak between the sheets!"

"Stick to Quidditch, mate. Poetry isn't your forte."

"Come on Moony! There's got to be something you like about her! What about that bosom, eh? How can you not notice that?"

Both Peter and Remus blanched at the shocking question. "I haven't…you're supposed to get to know…I don't focus on that first!"

"Really? Because that's the first thing I look at!" crowed Sirius as James snickered beside him. After a minute, they quieted and began to squirm under Moony's stern, almost professor-like air. The teenage werewolf roughly rolled up the poster, not bothering to hide his smile as it tore apart.

"One day-_rip!_-you two are going to find-_rip!_-**women** that will whip you-_rip!_-right into shape!"

He continued tearing it up until nothing existed except for tiny pieces of confetti in his hands. Peter's terrified gaze and pitiful whimpers caused Moony to notice his nails had lengthened again. _Claws_. It only happened when he lost control-even when he was happy. Light brown eyes winced. _A werewolf thing_.

"Hey Moony…" Padfoot said soothingly. "Don't worry about it. It was just a joke."

Prongs nodded; his hazel eyes softened. "Yeah! We wouldn't have even thought about getting it if we knew it was going to upset you like this. We-We just don't want you to be lonely, Moony. You deserve great."

His shoulders had become tense with worry, but upon hearing their sentiments, Remus relaxed. "I…I'm sorry. Just you know…I don't like people being…" It didn't take long to find the right word, "**degraded**. People of my kind don't usually breed anyway."

Sympathy flashed across their faces and both began to shift awkwardly. It was definitely a strange sight to see because they almost always kept their cool, especially Sirius. Walking to class. Performing a perfect double-loop. Casting a prank. Sitting in detention. Under pressure. Constant composure was another tick on the never-ending list of what qualities Hogwarts witches loved about the Marauders.

"I-I-I know!" cried Peter in excitement. "H-h-how about we do s-s-something else?"

The atmosphere changed at once. It was now comfortable enough to breathe and silently understood that all was forgiven among them.

"That's the best idea you've had in years, Wormtail!" James replied teasingly.

"Hey!"

He caught the pillow thrown at him with ease due to his Chaser reflexes. "It's the truth. Want to go outside by the lake?"

"Why?" asked Sirius while leaning back, looking carelessly handsome as usual. "So we can watch you play wanna-be Seeker? Nah. I think a nice prank would do me good right about now."

Laughing hazel eyes met sparkling blue and one word passed through their lips. "_Snivellus_!"

_Here we go again…_

But, even though he tried to look disapproving, Remus couldn't stop a smile from anchoring on his face. Arrogant and wonderful Prongs. Haughty and loyal Padfoot. Cowering and friendly Wormtail. And, himself, a brilliant monstrosity. They might have been a bizarre bunch compared to some, but you could find no other group more willing to lay down their lives for each other. These were the boys who had become Animagi to keep him company during full moons. These were the boys who patched him up as much as possible before Madame Pomfrey came down to get him. They were always there with their goofy smiles and mischievous antics.

"Onward fellow Marauders!" James, their leader, declared gallantly. He swung his wand as though it were a sword and looked quite the picture. "To the dungeons, where evil lurks its greasy head!"

"Aye, sir! Wormtail! Our broadswords, ho! Brandish them in the face of evil!"

With that, Sirius ran off; his hard thumping could be heard following James' from the boys' staircase. The chubby boy blinked stupidly after his handsome friend before turning to Moony. The werewolf grinned. "Padfoot wants you to bring his wand."

"O-Oh! Why didn't he just s-s-say that then?"

He picked up a long, ebony wand that had fallen on the red carpet floor. His watery blue eyes analyzed the sandy-haired lad as he stopped in the doorway. "A-aren't you c-c-coming, Moony?"

The book snapped shut. "Don't I always? Someone has to keep you gits out of trouble."

* * *

**CHAPTER 10**

"Maddie, my love, are you okay?"

"Do I _look_ okay, mum?!"

Madam Pomfrey frowned at her newest patient, making sure to add a little more armadillo bile than necessary into the goblet. Nothing dangerous, of course. Just enough so the chit would get a taste of her attitude. If there was one nuisance the nurse couldn't stand, it was spoiled witches! Wizards were tolerable once it was realized even they needed a good Pepper Up Potion after a Bludger knockout or cauldron explosion. However, witches could be nasty little blighters. And, girls like Madeline vonArrow were already quite a piece of work on their own.

The grey-haired witch glanced over a status chart. Everything looked well enough, but her patient had insisted on staying an extra day. She would've thought a pretty lass like her might've wished to go out and flirt with the Durmstrang arrivals. Madam Pomfrey chuckled. Minerva could preach manners and etiquette all she liked, but girls would always be girls and boys would be boys. Times were changing. Wasn't like the old days anymore…

"Nurse, will she be okay? She looks a little pale an-,"

"I assure you Priscilla that that girl is fine! I wanted to release your daughter yesterday, but she insisted on staying."

Madeline huffed angrily. "I am not fine! Do you see my face?! I look like one of those muggle x-ray things! There's no way I'm going out there like this."

It was true. Thin streaks of pale blue blossomed across her face, arms, and chest that were visible just under her tanned skin's surface. That was the one thing she couldn't explain. According to the girl, they had appeared right after she had been brought in yesterday by her friend. The nurse's nose scrunched. Speaking of which, vonArrow had yet to tell her _why_ she had fallen unconscious and when asked she merely turned her nose upward and said it was none of her business. _None of my business! Humph! _There was no point in her being the school matron if the cause of accidents were "none of her business"!

"I'm afraid I can't help you there, Miss vonArrow. Do you think that minor earthquake might've had something to-,"

"**It's none of your business**!"

Priscilla vonArrow gasped at the savage tone in her daughter's voice. "Calm down, Maddie! _Please_…there's no need to get upset. Madam Pomfrey, are you sure there's nothing you can do about the marks?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Not if it's none of my business, no. As I've said a million times, Miss vonArrow, you're free to go! Drink this potion and be off with you!" The goblet was violently slammed down on the nightstand beside the blonde's bed as the nurse stomped off into the corridor. "If there is an _emergency_, I'll be in the Headmaster's office."

After Pomfrey disappeared, the witch sighed in annoyance. "I have to say your father is extremely disappointed in you Madeline. He's not happy."

"When is he ever?"

Madeline's arms crossed while her mother placed a hand on her cheek. The blonde jerked away. She had learned early on not to hold to much feeling for her mum. It wasn't as if you could trust Priscilla vonArrow with anything important. Silvery blue eyes narrowed in disdain. Her mother glared back with a hand at her throat, if only to display a thirty-carat diamond ring. It went with the large diamond earbobs and pearls that were better suited for evening.

"Don't talk about your father that way!" Her blue eyes scanned the room wildly, as if expecting something to jump out from the shadows. "You know he just got that seat on the Council! Then you had to go and pull something like this! It's being talked about all around the European Coven." She bit a fingernail. "He's furious, Maddie!"

"Then tell him to fix it!" Mrs. vonArrow huffed. "That's ridiculous! _You can't fix something like this!_ The vonArrow name is a laughingstock, no thanks to you. We haven't even gotten through the trial."

"TRIAL! THEY'RE PUTTING ME ON TRIAL! THAT'S SO UNFAIR!"

The blonde kicked the sheets away while screaming in rage. Vials of Madam Pomfrey's expensive healing potions exploded on the shelves and inside the cabinets, causing much of the wood to be destroyed by acid. Several of the beds became turned over. Curtains fell from the windows. Glass panes cracked at the touch of loose magic and the Hospital Wing rumbled as Madeline howled like a werewolf on the prowl. Meanwhile, her mother simply inspected her fingernails, apparently unbothered even as a lamp flew at head. With the flick of an oak wand, it vanished into thin air.

"I say, are you done now?" She asked impatiently.

Now fatigued and aching, Madeline nodded.

"Good. You're lucky that didn't register as a Cry or else it would've been straight to Claustrum! **Yes, you idiot girl! They ****can**** send you there!** This whole affair is working on my last nerve, Maddie! Hasn't your Ocular told you anything?!"

"No…" The blonde's feet shuffled awkwardly. "Cecilia's _useless_."

"We'll have to fix that then. The British conclave has no mercy on its junior members. In fact, it makes everything worse because it reflects poorly on your Bloodline and your chances of making a fine match. There's only one way to smooth this over: _Alliances! Alliances! Connections! Connections! _**That's how you make it in this world!**"

Madam Pomfrey came striding back inside, humming an old folklore tune. Mrs. vonArrow immediately pasted on a brilliant almost blinding smile as the nurse shrieked at the catastrophe inside her precious hospital. Over the flying spells and whizzing bottles, the broomstick heiress almost didn't hear her mother mutter, "_Treth Hallow._"

"WHAT?!"

"_You-heard-me,_" she gritted out. "_**Treth Hallow**_. You met them at the Potter's summer cotillion in Ireland. Remember those horrible twin girls? His Seer mother? The boy's a few years younger than you, but no matter. His family has borne some of the century's finest Oculars and is much respected-,"

"In a parallel universe! Hallow is the weirdest boy in school and he's friends with," The name with uttered with astounding venom. "_**Evans…**_"

"True. The Hallows are rather bizarre for humans, but their methods are the best. They only pair up with the most powerful of British Seraphiels and I hear they have been conversing more than usual with the d'Artois family in France…who is this Evans girl?"

A nasty scowl appeared on Madeline's face. "No one special. Just some filthy mudblood whom everyone adores!"

Mrs. vonArrow visibly relaxed, patting down her blonde bob.

"All the boys think Evans is _so _beautiful! Cecilia told me this morning about how those Durmstrang idiots were drooling over her-even though she lost like a million points for Gryffindor! _Humph._ If I'd know that was gonna happen, I wouldn't have bothered telling Ainslie to take the bloody sign off the door! Not to mention, all the teachers **love** her because she's so "brilliant", and "talented", and "oddly charming"! How can you be odd and charming?! It's so-,"

Priscilla continued on while ignoring her daughter's ranting. Madeline smiled, gasped, and frowned delicately in the all right places. A list of a dozen or so names was thrown at her- each secretly going in one ear and out the other.

"The Bariatinsky brothers, the Shuvalov girl, Yusupov is a _must_, and for Beauxbatons there are many, but I believe Antoinette Duclaires will suffice."

"_That bitch!_" cried Madeline woefully. "She's almost worse than Evans! At last year's Sanguis, she walked around like she's a bloody princess and tried to-,"

"I remember. Her father is practically the king over in France, and if there's one thing I know about girls from the gutter, it's that they raise their children up on a pedestal." The mother's sneer matched her daughter's to the last tooth. "But, your situation warrants a king's protection. Be kind to her. I mean it!"

"I don't need their help, mother! This is so unfair! What next? Are they blaming me for those loose Cries in Paris too?!"

A red-faced and sour-looking Madam Pomfrey sped over from behind a curtain. She immediately began to shoo Mrs. vonArrow away, claiming that visiting hour was over and it wouldn't do to have her patient upset while loose doxies were lounging around. Madeline watched her mother gasp in horror. Flying vases she could handle, but Priscilla hated all creatures-magical and muggle-that weren't Seraphiels or wizards. However, the older witch muttered quietly under her breath and soon afterward a small explosion resonated from a far corner. The school nurse quickly fell for the distraction, screaming wildly in panic while running over to investigate.

"No. They say the French wardens still have no idea who made those." She frowned. "It was powerful, wasn't it? Too powerful…and for whomever it was to be unregistered…well the incident has caused the Orlovs to start making a fuss again."

"_The Orlovs?_" sneered Madeline. "Don't tell me. Their alleged granddaughter that no one else has ever met or seen apparated into Paris, Cried, and then disappeared without a trace? _Please_. Everyone knows that's just an excuse so they won't have to give up their fortune."

"Yes, it does sound ridiculous," agreed her mother. "But, to be on the safe side, it'll be best for you to keep a look-out. You remember what they say she looks like? Green eyes and red-,"

"**OUT! OUT ALREADY! DON'T YOU REALIZE IT'S NOT SAFE HERE! GO! GO!**"

With a flick of her wand, Madam Pomfrey floated a protesting Priscilla vonArrow toward the fireplace. She stood on guard like a soldier until the short, blonde witch reluctantly tossed Floo into the fire and stepped inside, vanishing loudly within moments. Madeline was quite happy to mutter a "good riddance" after her. The vonArrows may have been a loving family in the public eye, but once that eye turned away the love went with it. To be truthful, Madeline preferred it that way. It made her life all the more glamorous.

"**AND YOU MISS VONARROW! I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOU! DRINK YOUR POTION AND BE OFF! BEAUXBATONS WILL BE HERE ANY MINUTE NOW!"**

She stared at the steaming vial that had miraculously survived both earth-shaking onslaughts. Glaring at the nurse as she stormed off, the blonde took a gulp before choking on the terrible taste and the feel of smoke shooting out of her ears. Madeline threw the rest of the blasted substance on the floor, checked her appearance for physical proof that she'd indeed been hospitalized, and stalked off to join her popular friends. By the time Madeline reached the door, the witch had forgotten half the names her mother had told her. Not that she planned to do anything with them.

If asked, the sudden bout of amnesia could be blamed on the armadillo bile.

* * *

"Scammander says-shut up Treth! Humph. As I was saying, Scammander says this: _from the darkest jungle to brightest desert, from mountain peak to marshy bog…I have visited lairs, burrows, and nests across five continents, observed the curious habits of magical beasts in a hundred countries, witnessed their powers, gained their trust and, on occasion, beaten them off with my traveling kettle…_it's not fair. Why must the men have all the fun?" 

A long, blissful yet troubled sigh escaped Lily's mouth as her emerald eyes watched a leaf as though it held the meaning of life. They sat in a tree that was within meters of the castle gates. The wind wasn't blowing, but the air was still cool. Magnificent shades of purple, pink, orange, and red blended together to form a brilliant sunset overhead. Both stared at it solemnly as Lily gave another sigh.

She'd done it again…_blown up at nothing_…_ran her big mouth…ruined her Sunday…_would she ever learn?

The redhead fidgeted uncomfortably. Her dad, before everything had happened, always warned her about losing her temper. In muggle primary school, she had almost gotten expelled for punching a little boy in the mouth because he made fun of her hair color. At home, pots and pans would fly around. One once accidentally hit Petunia in the head, which caused her to be rushed straight away to their dad's care. But, that was all accidental magic she had later found out when a wizard appeared at the door, waving a Hogwarts letter- the letter that literally changed her life. Still, the worst things she'd ever done happened when Lily was angry. A "volatile time-bomb" as Mr. Evans would say in his doctor voice.

Lily sniffed while wiping away a tear. That was easy for him to say…her dad was the calmest person she knew. He never got angry. Annoyed? Yes. But angry? No.

"Nemaha okay?"

A Sugar Quill was in direct eyesight. Lily's favorite sweet. As always at the sight of her best friend's sugary gifts, a beam managed to work onto her face.

"Nemaha _will_ be okay. Thanks Treth."

The raven-haired boy nodded fervently. His green eyes studied hers as he leaned back onto his branch. That was another thing about Treth Hallow. He possessed a grace most boys his age couldn't copy. The branch he lay on appeared very thin and yet it supported the lad's weight as though he was lighter than a feather. Lily had dared him once to sit on a string she'd tied between two trees. Not only did he fall asleep; he also turned, yawned, and stretched to the point where Lily kicked him off in annoyance.

"I don't understand all the hype about me being a lady anyway," the redhead sucked on her candy, looking very much in deep thought. "As long as I'm not a slut, that's all that matters. I don't open my legs whenever some bloke talks to be like Hobgoblin or vonArrow."

Treth snorted in agreement.

"Hobgoblin flirted with you? That's disgusting! You're only a third-year! And, you like Amelia!"

He sighed impatiently.

"What do you mean _I_ liked Amelia?! You-you said you thought she was cute and you walked with her at-,"

A mischievous grin appeared on his elfin face.

"…oh, you thought her bum was cute…." Emerald eyes flashed. "Blimey! This is exactly what I'm talking about Treth Hallow! Women are meant to be loved and respected as equals! Not like pretty little show dogs or-or brood mares!"

Treth gave an apologetic shrug.

Lily's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Enjoying it while you can? You're still thirteen! I didn't even look at boys when I was your age…I thought they were, you know, "icky"." The redhead rolled her eyes. "I sound like an old bitty, don't I?"

His grin became rather wide and cheesy. She huffed.

"All I'm saying is that if witches were meant to be pining imbeciles we wouldn't have been given magic in the first place! It's the one thing I hate about this place. Everyone expects me to be this delicate little flower, _which I'm not!_ You've seen what I can do, Treth! I'm sturdy and strong as a hippogriff! I'm not meant to sit around and-and be **decorative**!"

Lily spit out the last word as if it were a curse. While sitting, she began to bounce up and down heatedly on the branch below her. Her arms were swinging wildly, demonstrating the point not just to her friend, but to some invisible stranger in the distance.

"If I turned in an application to the Department of Magical Creatures at the Ministry, it would probably be thrown into the fire as soon as they see my gender! You know there are only four registered female magizoologists in Britain and two of them work abroad! I'd kill for a chance…it's my dream." Emerald eyes glazed over. "I want to open a magical preserve for endangered creatures…I don't know where yet, but it needs to be somewhere isolated and by the ocean…for the merpeople of course. Doesn't that sound lovely, Treth? Treth? _Treth!_"

He had pulled her back into the foliage while tucking her legs up and out of sight. A growling Lily made an attempt to slap the back of his head, but the boy easily dodged. Treth's green eyes were focused on the ground where hundreds of black-robed students were lining up and waiting impatiently. The redhead gave a sheepish grin. "_Sorry_."

For once, he ignored her to pull out what Lily estimated to be a very expensive silver heart-shaped locket dotted with brilliant sapphires. She was surprised he didn't mind being seen with it. Flashy hearts and gems weren't exactly the Hallow style. Creepy bats, glowing toads, and cackling pumpkins were more of their thing.

"_What do you mean I'm nosey_?!" The redhead quietly screeched as Treth hid the locket away. "I'm not nosey! I'm…merely more curious than necessa-,"

"**Look! Look up there! It's a flying giant!"**

"**Stop acting stupid! It's **_**obviously **_**a dragon!"**

Ambrosia Pinkerton corrected them. "Five points from Slytherin for verbal misconduct…it's a carriage by the way."

It seemed the saying that wizards can't help but to show off when getting together was true. Something dark and large, much larger than a hundred broomsticks, was hurtling across the multi-colored sky towards Hogwarts. Lily watched her classmates gasp in awe (she herself couldn't keep her mouth closed) as the object in the distance became larger, more defined. Soon, it skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and swerved toward them. The blazing lights of the sunset hit it, revealing a gigantic, power-blue, winged horse-drawn carriage that was the size of a gigantic house.

As always, Pinkerton was right.

The carriage landed with a mighty crash that made tall Frank Longbottom jump back on his girlfriend's foot. Lily giggled as Alice emitted a loud shriek before pushing him off, teasingly declaring him a clumsy oaf. Hearing the carriage bounce upon its vast wheels, the golden palominos flapped their wings nervously as shadows moved inside. Lily, from the creature encyclopedia inside her mind, identified them as Abraxan-the strongest breed.

A set of steps rolled down by themselves and soon coming down them was a short, glittering woman she couldn't quite see. Following her were about two dozen shivering figures. Lily watched Dumbledore rush out to greet the woman, planting a gallant kiss on her hand. She called out to the people behind them and the redhead assumed they were students.

"This Heritage Year thing is going to be big, huh Treth?"

He nodded imperiously as all of Hogwarts' new guests paused beside their tree. Emerald and olive green eyes scanned the Beauxbatons crowd. Lily held back a groan as McGonagall burst into a speech: _torture in the highest degree_. Two minutes slowly passed by and already all of Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, and Hogwarts were fighting against sleep.

"_My parents were right._" She heard a brunette giggle in whispers, "_Morpheus does have helpers everywhere._"

A yawn came in reply from the blonde next to her. "_So it seems…_"

That voice! She'd heard it before! But from where? Lily crawled away from Treth who tried to beckon her back. The blonde was standing right underneath the two's hiding place and the emerald-eyed girl was determined to get a look at her. Making sure not to rustle too many leaves, she moved as quietly as possible onto the outer limbs.

Unfortunately for Lily, branches could only take so much abuse.

A loud crash reverberated throughout the area followed by shouts of surprise. Those close to the accident backed away while curious onlookers tried to catch a good glimpse of the chaos. Leaves fell from the broken tree onto the impact site- one falling into Lily's open mouth as she groaned in pain. The orders from the professors to move fell on many deaf ears, but in hers they sounded like the chimes of Big Ben. Wincing, the young witch rolled over to find herself staring down into very pretty yet annoyed aquamarine eyes.

"Uh…sugar quill?" Lily brushed the excess leaf off of it, grinning sheepishly.

* * *

**YEA, I'M DONE! THANKS SO MUCH FOR YOUR PATIENCE! I KNOW ITS ALMOST BEEN A MONTH…DON'T FORGET TO COMMENT/REVIEW!**


	8. Inside the Shadows

**INSIDE THE SHADOWS**

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"You let yourself be taken."

Dmitri Evans opened one cobalt blue eye to survey his surroundings…wherever his surroundings were. They had been moving, gliding, and in his case struggling alongside the shadows for about three months now. It wasn't as if they were congenial enough to tell him the time. No. His instincts-instincts he had long oppressed-supplied that information. Occasionally, they would stop to set up camp like the old days-**cursed days**-float him above a roaring fire like caught kill on display and have their sadistic fun with him. But at least then, he could see the stars brightening the inky sky with their light. Nature could tell one many things. Infuriately for Dmitri, they lacked the information he desired above all to know.

"Did I?"

Tonight he was in a cell. Edgar Allen Poe would've adored it, he mused. The place seemed to be a villain's lair straight out of a classic horror novel: absurdly dark, damp, and disgusting. The three D's. A fireplace crackled eerily in a nearby corner, but he had yet to feel its warmth. Shivering, Dmitri's lip curled as an emaciated rat scurried underneath his feet. It was hard to feel anything when you chained hand-and-foot to a wall.

"_You did_," Sergei snarled. "You knew it was Morgaine when she approached you, but didn't run. You hid away from the muggles…a wise choice. Running is futile."

"Is it really?"

"**I WILL BE ASKING THE QUESTIONS HERE!"**

His voice thundered throughout the chamber, but Dmitri showed no fear. He gazed at his former comrade pitilessly with a sneer planted on his handsome face. The doctor knew his appearance angered Sergei. Even in Russia, he had never been attractive and, when compared to Dmitri, it was painfully so. Cobalt eyes studied the other man's teenage appearance.

"Let me go. I have nothing you want."

A cruel smile played on his lips. "Au contraire, my comrade-in-arms! You have everything we want." Sergei's body floated eerily into the air and he reclined as though sitting on a throne. "Judging by how overjoyed Master was to hear about your capture, you have a few things he wants too…besides your corpse."

"As I said before, I've had nothing to do with you bastards," The brunette glowered icily, "and we stopped being comrades the moment you hurt that girl."

"Not very friendly! I think it's time for another attitude adjustment. _Morgaine!_"

The archaic woman was sitting farthest from the fireplace in the darkest corner. Her fetal position was being cradled by the moving shadows. Mumbling wildly, Morgaine glanced up at the call then grinned, revealing two rows of crooked yellow teeth. She pointed a clawed finger at the chained Dmitri and watched gleefully as her beloved pet began to swirl up her arm. Then with it firmly inside the sorceress's grasp, Morgaine launched a ball of darkness toward him.

Blue eyes narrowed. _Not again!_

A shield of golden flames intercepted the attack before swallowing it whole. A howl of outrage echoed solemnly, but it did not belong to Morgaine.

"**HOW? HOW?! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE POWERLESS!**"

"Just because I have power doesn't mean I have to use it," snarled Dmitri.

"Power? _Ha!_ This coming from the man who swore he would never use, touch, or look at magic again! You vowed in front of all that would be so! **TELL ME THE TRUTH!**"

"There is no truth. My sins have been forgiven, Sergei!"

"**BUT NOT FORGOTTEN!" **His face was filled with hatred, but then he calmed and began to pace in mid-air. "What we have accomplished will always be remembered by the hands of time! By the Book of Shadows! And you-you were the most glorious-,"

"Glorious or insane?"

"_Ambitious._ You delved into magic long forgotten, unlocked every secret, and became their master. Your name was feared throughout the realms and you were second only to one. The ultimate power was in your grasp and-like a fool my friend-you turned it away…from all of us and it's time to take that power back."

At his words, the once silent group of six including Morgaine jeered out insults toward him. Indeed, Sergei was their leader and it suited the bloodthirsty arse-kisser perfectly. Dmitri eyed the robed figures. There were seven when he knew them. But despite their hoods, he begrudgingly could differentiate between them. One was a newcomer to the ranks and another was missing. Blue eyes widened in horror.

"So you've noticed. Yes, Mirage has been given a grand assignment from the Master…gets to stay in a princess's castle and everything."

He watched in glee as the color drained from Dmitri's face before turning to face his comrades.

"You see," called out Sergei. "Our old friend has let himself go. When we knew him, he was invincible! He had no flaws...no weaknesses." A low chuckle resonated. "But now there's _three_..._Speculum Trivium!_"

With a flick of his ebony wand, three black strands of light shot out the tip and into the air. Each began to separate then form solid floating surfaces. The doctor felt his heart clench as he saw the faces of the family he'd been stolen from. In one mirror was pretty Gloria Evans sitting at a pub by herself with a sad, wistful expression. In another a laughing Petunia ate dinner with Herbert, Cornelia, and a massive blonde lad at her side. And, the largest mirror in the middle showed beautiful Lily magically straightening her red curls with a wand while tiredly applying lipstick. Green eyes widened in horror as she hit her left cheek on accident. Then, she began to urgently remove the mistake by rubbing only causing it to smear even more.

"I suppose," Sergei drawled, "that even royalty have their flaws. You know they've been looking for her, yes? Is that another reason why you've been hiding out so long? To avoid your parents?"

"_No."_

"Have you told her about being a half-breed?"

"_Shut up._"

"Well I suppose that doesn't matter. Once everything's done and gone me doubt there will be much left. Those emeralds of hers will make a wonderful trophy, don't you think?"

"_**If you hurt my children**_" His voice became colder than an Antarctica winter, "_**or my wife, there's no place in all the realms that can hide you from me.**_"

For a moment, the teenage-looking man appeared frightened, but his fear quickly erased itself. "Still the same after all these years…arrogant even in chains!"

"I theenk 'e needs to be taught another lesson. 'e forgets 'iz place." The newest member spoke-his French accent shining through.

"_I agree_. Master wants to keep you alive until his arrival, but he didn't say we couldn't have fun with you." purred Sergei, lifting up his wand between Dmitri's defiant blue eyes. He despised those eyes. They held the same intensity as they did in the old days. The better days. The days when he could stare this man-**this traitor**-in the eyes and call him his comrade. His friend. But, those times were dead and gone. Over. All Sergei wished now to do was wipe those colbalt orbs blank...to watch the light leave them as he despatched Dmitri into Death's welcoming arms. But that deed belonged to the Master. For now, Sergei would settle for this:

"**Crucio!**"

The traitor's screams provided some comfort.

* * *

**Hmm...I wonder what Dmitri did to become a traitor. Who and why did these people kidnap him? Who is the "Master"? Why did Dmitri swear to never use magic? Isn't he supposed to be a muggle? Who's this "Mirage" person? Why is this chapter called, "Inside the Shadows"?! **

**Hmmm...well, the good news is I KNOW and you'll find out! I have to say I missed Dmitri a lot so I had to write about him. He's probably the most complex character in this story! **

**NEXT CHAPTER UP SOON! (Hopefully this tickled your tastebuds!)**


	9. Ch 11&12: What They Don't Teach You

**Disclaimer: See the top of chapter 1 & 2. I don't own Harry Potter or its characters.**

Warnings: **AU.** Mentions of sexual behavior. Teenage humor. Mature themes. Violence in later chapters. Some foul language. Romance. Creature violence.

* * *

**Bloodlines: Heritage Year**

**Chapter 11&12: What They Don't Teach You**

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* * *

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"Remember there is a difference between disemboweling toads and disemboweling frogs. Toads needs to be skinned first and frogs-,"

"Boiled at medium temperature. Yes, Professor Slughorn."

"Also, the gold cauldron in the supply requires an extra dose of magical mess remover. The Self-Stirring needs your average cleaning charm, _never by hand_ you know! Mary Macdonald can tell you all about that. Poor lass…now the regular class-set pewter cauldrons-,"

"Have to be scrubbed with spit and brute force. Yes, Professor Slughorn."

His large gingery-blonde mustache twitched as he laughed boisterously. "Oh, ho! I think regular newt slime scrub will do the job right enough. Now about the portrait in my office-,"

"Trust me. Whatever your granddad says about pretty mudblood mannequins will be ignored."

"Grandpa Stanford always was the charmer! He was indeed! Let's not forget of course-,"

"Professor Slughorn," Lily wiped the sweat from her brow in unhidden aggravation. "_What do you want?_"

She had been down in here these dark, cramped dungeons for hours. Judging by the moving star chart on the wall behind them, it was nearly 3 o'clock in the morning. She could almost hear her folded legs begging for mercy. Her pale hands had developed an unattractive collection of swollen blisters and paper cuts. The blood and muscles inside her arms were tingling from hourly abuse of lifting twenty-pound cauldrons onto high shelves. Sleep deprivation was quickly taking toll on the exceptional heaviness of her eyelids and yes…Lily groaned uncomfortably. Aunt Flow was paying the monthly visit since about thirty humiliating minutes ago.

_Life_, she thought, _is so predictable it kills me_.

"Such cheekiness Miss Evans," He wagged a finger teasingly. "Let's not forget who the teacher here is!"

Lily let out a sigh. "Sorry. Do you need anything else?"

"No. No. But, I have to say you are a brave girl, Miss Evans! Landing on the Minister's daughter from a tree…bad timing, eh? Usually, you're so precise when it comes to entrances."

A mean scowl turned the corners of her full lips. "It's not like I did it on purpose! Besides, the girl's fine and I apologized a hundred times! But _no,_" Lily deepened her voice until it became stern like McGonagall's. "_You've crossed the line, Evans! How dare you embarrass this school! I swear if you put another toe out of line it'll be straight home!_"

"Yes, well…" Slughorn waved a hand as though swatting a fly. "Honorè Duclaires is a powerful man, very powerful indeed. It won't do well to cross him I assure you! You know the Duclaireses have a most fascinating history…perhaps the mademoiselle wouldn't mind sharing it over tea…what do you think, Miss Evans?"

She chose not to answer, trying to seem focused on a tiny speck of dirt that refused to budge. Lily could easily envision the cogs whirling beneath the Potions master's skull. Slughorn was what her father would've not-so-affectionately termed an "arse-kisser". He was always kissing the arses belonging to the children of the rich and influential or to those he could predict were talented enough to make a name for themselves after Hogwarts. She watched as the old wizard popped some crystallized pineapple into his black hole of a mouth. That Duclaires girl better watch out because Slughorn would be on her like white on rice pretty soon!

"Madame Royale does indeed merit an invitation, don't you believe?"

Lily snorted. "She's not princess on _this_ side of the Channel."

"Don't say princess, Miss Evans! The French get finicky about these sorts of things. The revolution during WWI was particularly nasty over there if I recall. Hung the royal family at the gallows and then set them on pikes for all to see. Speaking of seeing, I believe I saw Madame la Minister in St. Tropez last-,"

"I met her mum in Paris over the summer. _She's_ actually nice."

Emerald eyes narrowed as she remembered the blonde's attitude during the whole incident. Needless to say, making "Madame Royale" cry only increased Lily's punishment. Now she understood why people didn't like the French…

"Really now?" The Potions Master eyed her greedily. "Seems like you have friends in high places, eh?"

"I suppose…but I don't really-,"

"Let's not forget about Treth Hallow! I taught both his parents myself when they were in school! Brilliant, very brilliant, especially his mother. Everyone knew Max and Sylvia were meant to be. I remember how dear Felicity Potter helped with the introductions! Of course, everyone thought them a bit eccentric and still do…nevertheless the Hallows are a fine family. A nice move made Evans!"

The redhead continued to ignore him. Though her eyes flashed as Slughorn talked about her best friend like he was some piece on a chessboard. Lily put aside another cauldron, determined to finish this task early so she could get some form of sleep. One part of her punishment was to attend Tuesday's etiquette seminar or face expulsion for attending so few, but she had another detention the night before. The last thing she needed to hear were vonArrow and her gang "politely critiquing" her haphazard appearance. In the mood Lily was in right now, that would only add to the current list of detentions with Slughorn.

"So my dear, I figure you're very popular among your classmates?"

"_Who the hell told you that?!_" Emerald eyes reared up incredulously. If anything, her popularity level had shrunken down into the pits of shame with recent events.

His fat belly wobbled while he chuckled. "No one needs to tell me. Why everyone looks up to you these days, especially the younger girls!"

"Remember to buy glasses next time you're in Hogsmeade, professor. Old age is getting to your eyes."

Slughorn let loose another rumble of laughter. It was amazing actually…how the girl couldn't see it…just yesterday that first-year Lisa Matthews charmed her hair a ghastly shade of red. On Thursday, Wisteria Gallagher had tripped down a staircase in an attempt to move as gracefully as her role model. Muggle clothes were steadily creeping into vogue. Professor Kettleburn was reporting an unprecedented interest in Care of Magical Creatures while O'Malley found himself taking up more singing cards and bouquets from boys during class than ever. Evans may not have been popular with some, but she was becoming the height of cool for others. Who didn't want to be (or be with) the beautiful, sassy girl who lived life on the edge?

The professor himself held Lily with high regard. She was his top female student after all.

"Now, now Miss Evans! No need to be-,"

A deep, resonating knock sounded on the dungeon door, startling both. It soon opened to reveal an irritable Severus Snape in his hook-nosed, sallow, and greasy-haired glory. Tonight however was different. Tonight there were ugly purple tentacles wiggling out of the boy's head, nose, and neck. Beady eyes moved to settle on the Potions Master (who was failing miserably to hold back laughter) and narrowed into a nasty glower. "**It's-****not****-funny!**"

"Of course, it's not old boy, of course it's-,"

"**DO YOU KNOW WHAT THEY DID TO ME?! I'VE BEEN STUCK HANGING OFF THE ENTRANCE HALL CEILING FOR HOURS BECAUSE NO ONE COULD UNDO THE DAMNED SPELL!"**

"Vhot he says is true," spoke a rough voice. "Ve help him down."

Two identical twin brothers followed behind Snape at a leisurely pace, but it was obvious that both were exhausted from their efforts. Even their red Durmstrang night robes seemed lackluster.

Slughorn greeted them warmly. "Oh ho, the Bariatinsky brothers! Nikolai and Ivan, if I may presume? Yes, indeed. I've heard a great deal about your family. Supplies one-third of the world's lumber! Amazing. Amazing. Tell me how is St. Petersburg this time of year?"

The older or at least the taller one shrugged. "_Cold_."

Meanwhile, Snape stood off to the side scowling with tentacles and all as his Head of House kissed arse. He crossed his arms while the robes he wore billowed solemnly with the small movement. His dark eyes moved about the dungeons sulkily until the landed on the nonchalant redhead working in the corner. An expression of undeniable greed mixed with the unyielding hardness on Snape's face.

"_Hello Lily_…" He whispered breathily.

She gave no sign of hearing the Slytherin.

"Lily? I'm sorry about what happened-,"

Emerald eyes flashed dangerously. "_So you're talking to __**Mudbloods**__ now, huh?_"

"Come on Lily…" Snape pleaded in a whisper. "That was last year and it-it just slipped out. I thought we're supposed to be friends? Best friends!"

"Why are you whispering? I suppose you don't want your "big and bad-arse" Death Eater friends to overhear."

His wide and boot-clad feet shuffled on the grimy floor. Snape turned his head away shyly and Lily's green eyes became slits. "_See! See! You don't even deny it!_ You think this is all fun and games!"

"You have to trust me…the Dark Lord…he's powerful beyond all imagination. And, he is merciful. He would let you join and forgive you for being-,"

"_**For being what? **_Being born by muggles? For having magic? For daring to go to Hogwarts?! Those are either things I can't help or need to have! You're a **damned fool** if you think I'm going to follow you to kiss _his_ robes! To kill people's families and innocent children! You-Know-Who may be powerful, but he's plain **evil**!"

Lily barely managed to keep from screaming, holding it down into a harsh, quiet murmur. "You've changed since that first train ride to school. You just wait Severus Snape! One day you're going to regret everything and I won't be around to pick up the pieces. _I'll have nothing to do with you_!" She turned around swiftly and began to sort through old Potions textbooks. Alphabetizing them would be her last task tonight. The other assignments could be finished tomorrow.

At first, Snape reared back as though he'd been slapped. Then, he schooled his sulky features into an appearance of cool anger. "Potter's been telling you all this, **hasn't he**?! Perfect Potter and his idiot lackeys. They're dangerous Lily! For Merlin's sake, I've seen it myself! Lupin is a-,**"**

Her frigid emerald glower froze him. "I know your theory and don't you dare say it aloud! Besides you should be grateful. I heard about them saving you last year."

"**S**-**SAVE? SAVE ME?"** Snape quickly lowered his tone before glancing to see if the others heard him. "It's not like they did it for charity! Potter was saving his skinny neck! Perfect Potter…thinks he's so clever…big Quidditch hero-,"

"Why are you so obsessed with them? James Potter and his marauders are nothing more than arrogant toe-rags. They're not even worth thinking about! Now if you'll excuse me, this "_mudblood_"as your friends love to call me needs to get some sleep."

The happiness that had overcame the Slytherin's expression at hearing Lily insult his rival vanished in an instant. He appeared rather dejected. "_Lily…I-I-I really am sorry_-,"

"Give it a rest."

Professor Slughorn came waddling over with his Durmstrang companions, unaware of the tension he'd just broken. One of them was speaking to him in another language that the Potions Master (despite the grins and chuckles) could obviously not understand. The older brother tried to translate, but it seemed he couldn't find the right words to use in English. Lily waited a few moments to enjoy Slughorn wiggling confusedly before interrupting. "Ivan says he needs to use the loo."

They stared in blank amazement. "Oh ho!" cried the professor. "Already dipping into the language pool, eh? I say Miss Evans you're becoming quite the prodigy…"

"Not really. I'm a better interpreter than speaker. My dad emigrated to practice medicine, but he only taught me enough Russian to get by. Said I don't need to use it here anyway unless someone pops up speaking it."

Slughorn chuckled amiably as the twins exchanged dubious glances. "Your father's a doctor, eh? Very honorable occupation…I'd never have the stomach fo-,"

"_Mikhail is looking for you_._ He vill vant to see youff now._"

Both brothers spoke simultaneously as they gazed at Lily with piercing dark eyes. The redhead stepped back in surprise before sassily placing hands on her hips. "_Really now? _Tell this Mikhail bloke I'm not a house-elf and if he wants to see me it won't be during the dead of night. Good night, professor. I'll finish everything else tomorrow."

"That's our Evans," his fat belly rumbled again with laughter, "always quick with the retorts. Spitfire, boys, spitfire! She'll put you in your place quick. Speaking of place dear, I'm having a lovely luncheon Thursday with a few rising stars. Are you interested?"

Emerald eyes rolled. Who in Hogwarts hasn't heard of Horace Slughorn's by invitation-only Slug Club? A list had never been published, but Lily knew that people like vonArrow, Black, Potter, and even Treth were routinely received. Her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to come up with a good excuse for missing out. She'd been told these events were extremely hoity-toity and dreadfully dull. But unfortunately, Lily's brain didn't fully operate until eight o'clock.

She sighed. "…Sure. Why not?"

"Excellent! A girl like you should get on with everyone quick. Thursday at seven after dinner. Don't forget now! I'll have to introduce you to Roderick Bobbin. His family owns a large line of apothecaries. Ludo Bagman is quite the young talent and Narcissa Black I find is nothing short of a lady. Of course you know her cousin Sirius and his brother Regulus. Fine chaps…" He went on listing name after name without stopping for breath.

The image of two young girls laughing haughtily on a sandy beach, one red-haired and one brunette, flashed through Lily's mind. She gave a cheerless smile. "Professor Slughorn…I've had my share of popularity and you should know it's not as great as everyone pretends to believe. Good night."

The witch felt the unbelievable weight of exhaustion impact her entire body. However, Lily fought it and made sure to borrow a cloak from the classroom's lost box to tie around her waist. The redhead didn't have to turn around to know the men were blushing as they guessed why. It wasn't her fault she wasn't allowed to the bathroom during detention! Lily might have been a stubborn loudmouth, but she had class. Besides, she didn't need anymore embarrassments tonight. Hearing Peeves declare throughout the halls that she was "riding the crimson tide" wasn't what Lily needed right now.

The Bariatinsky brothers watched the emerald-eyed girl trudge miserably out the dungeons before breaking out into whispers of excited Russian.

"It has to be her, Nikolai!" exclaimed Ivan. "She's got the eyes and everything!"

"I think so too little brother. Mikhail said the heir's signet slipped off her finger. Do you think she knows?"

He hit the other hard on the arm. "I'm only ten minutes younger than you…she doesn't act like she knows. You think she's ignoring us because we're human?"

"Perhaps. Mikhail sent a fire-call to the Orlovs." Nikolai shrugged. "We'll just ask Hallow at that seminar. It seems to me that he's acting as her Ocular. You know all the Wardens are gonna be hopping mad! There's a ten million ruble reward for finding the girl first."

"Can't blame Hallow really," snickered Ivan, remembering Lily's beautiful face. "I'd kill to be her Ocular. It's better than looking at Mikhail all the time. Let's go back to the ship. My bladder's killing me!"

"I thought you wanted to see the snakes' nest?"

"Changed my mind. If the girls look anything like _him_," He jerked a thumb toward Snape who cried out as Slughorn accidentally set his tentacles aflame. "There's not much to see and I need my beauty sleep."

Nikolai's dark eyes twinkled. "Yes, definitely as much as possible little brother. Don't want to wake up scarring people for life…"

"Same goes for you. We're twins, remember?"

The Bariatinsky brothers soon left the dungeons, making sure to playfully push and banter each other while running down the corridors. Despite their lack of sleep, each wished that the sun would hurry up and rise already. Tuesday was just too far away.

* * *

**CHAPTER 12**  
----------------------------------------------------------------------

**TUESDAY, OCTOBER 23, 1974**

"She must be using a glamour charm. They're great for hiding new flab."

"I 'ear she posed with 'er mère naked for a photo and sold it on a street corner!"

"Really? I heard that she was born with grey hair like her dad's and dyes it blonde to look younger. Is it true she's bulimic?"

"Oui. _Quelle horreur!_"

"Do you see how Madame Royale's dripping with diamonds? So nouveau riche!"

The blonde fidgeted uncomfortably as she followed Pippa past a group of Slytherin pure-bloods to the punch bowl. Whispers about the latest gossip in English and French went in one ear, then out the other and all of it had to do with her. Back at Beauxbatons, the first-class pupils were allowed to not wear the silk blue uniform unless the Headmistress required otherwise. Constant competition (mostly among the girls) rose to showcase the latest and greatest fashions first. This was rather easy for Antoinette because most designers would kill to see Madame Royale wear their creations. However, the others never let her forget just how easy it was and most of the time not in the nicest way.

"Don't worry about them, Antoinette. You look great."

"If you say so…." She sighed before replying in French. "I knew I shouldn't have overdone it, but I-I wanted to make a good impression after what happened."

"Understandable considering the environment you've grown up in." Pippa sipped pumpkin juice while giving off an air of professionalism. "Why did you turn into Miss Waterworks, though? I know I sound like an old harpy, but that's strange even for you. Was it about that new letter from home?"

"Merci, Pip. You are my little ray of sunshine…"

"Anytime."

Antoinette suddenly became serious. "Listen. I haven't fed in a while so if you're not busy tonight-,"

"No problem. It's the least I can do after you let me borrow this dress! _C'est magnifique!_"

Pippa looked very pretty in simple red dress robes that Antoinette had never wore and so stayed in her closet for months. The blonde felt bad for giving her friend second-hand fashions, but Pip had fallen in love with it. At least she wasn't over-dressed, which anyone with good sense knew was worse than appearing to an event naked. These dress robes were an haute couture confection of thousands of actually blooming tiny organza rosettes hand-stitched together to create an airy, cloudlike elegance. A six-figure priced dream. Antoinette caught her reflection in a nearby window and weakly beamed.

It was a good thing they left Professor Michaud at Beauxbatons with the younger years…

"You know it wasn't your fault about what happened. _She _fell on _you_-not the other way around!"

"_I don't want to talk about it_," replied the blonde coolly. "It's bad enough my mère wants us to be friends."

Pippa perked up in interest and Antoinette knew no peace would occur without telling more. She began to explain about meeting the strange, red-haired girl in the Sphnix's Nest before the latter used her as a landing pad…how Celestyn (who normally wasn't nice to others unless she had to be) took a special interest…how Lily had been shockingly casual when introducing herself. It was all very strange.

"Obviously, the girl's a Seraphiel. You have to be to get into the Sphinx's Nest." concluded ever-observant Pippa. "Are you sure you haven't met her?"

"Positive." Antoinette pursed her lips. "I even looked the name Evans up in the Repository back home and couldn't find anything. Mère wouldn't tell me anything either. She hasn't come to any Sanguis festivals in the past and they're required."

Falling into pensive silence, the two focused on their surroundings. Etiquette seminars were held in the Entrance hall, which had been decorated with the bare necessities. Drinks, little tables with silver tea sets, and a square set off for dancing. All of the students were mixed up and separated into large groups to rotate through several different stations. One included being ushered into lecture rooms and today there was a special expert. Neither Pippa nor Antoinette knew who it was yet. Thankfully, their group was currently on break time.

Suddenly the music from a popular faerie ballet came to a halt.

"OY! WILL YOU LET ME LEAD, EVANS?!"

"LEARN TO MOVE THOSE KNOBBLY KNEES, POTTER!"

"**MY KNEES ARE NOT KNOBBLY!"**

"_WHO TOLD YOU THAT? YOUR MUM IN PRIMARY SCHOOL?!"_

"**ARE YOU CALLING MY MUM A LIAR?"**

"_NO! I'M CALLING __YOU__ A DIM-WIT FOR NOT NOTICING THE OBVIOUS!"_

"**THAT'S RICH COMING FROM THE GIRL WHO TALKS TO HER FRIEND LIKE HE ISN'T A MUTE!"**

"_TRETH IS NOT MUTE! HE JUST PREFERS NOT TO TALK TO IDIOTS LIKE YOU!_"

"**AT LEAST I DON'T-,**"

They never found out what Lily does exactly because Professor McGonagall in her menacing tartan robes broke it up. "_Stop! Stop! __**Stop! **_This is going to be the last time I deal with you two! Evans, you are a sixth-year prefect and I need you to act like one. Understand?"

She nodded begrudgingly. Dark eyes turned on the fuming wizard next to her.

"And you Mr. Potter need to learn not to let your psychological issues affect you. It would also be best if you keep your classmate's private ailments _private_."

To everyone's surprise, James didn't smirk or shrug the hint off. He actually appeared embarrassed as he glanced at the nearby lad shyly. "Sorry, Hallow…"

Treth gave a nonchalant wave. A pretty Beauxbatons schoolgirl (who looked to be the same age) clutched onto his unoccupied arm and began to whimper in French. He merely glanced upward in annoyance. Lily gave a sympathetic smile. She didn't know who to feel sorry for: Treth-for being engaged so early in life or _her_-for being engaged to Treth.

He could be the meanest little blister.

"Listen here everyone! The Viennese Waltz is meant to be slow and graceful! I need all of you to count your steps if you're not sure where to go! Let's start again!"

"_Actually professor_," Lily interrupted smoothly. "I'd prefer to sit this one out."

She shook a finger while scolding. "Evans, you are not getting out of lessons today."

"_But this is important!_ I lost my dad's ring and I need to find it now before someone takes it! I tried the Summoning Charm, but nothing came back."

"Good enough reason for me…unless my teaching skills are getting rusty, eh Minnie?"

"My name is Minerva, Isabella, not Minn-,"

"But Minnie's so much cuter," replied Professor Grinnet offhandedly. "Chop, chop my little gargoyles! Time to go scavenger hunting! What does it look like Angel Face?"

Lily could honestly say she liked this new professor. Isabella Grinnet was the middle-aged version of what the Americans called Hollywood glamour. It was hard to believe this was the witch who disguised herself as a housemaid. She obviously hailed from a warmer climate or muggle heritage because large, white sunglasses were perched on top of her head. She wore sparkly silver robes and under which was a tight, sleek pink catsuit with glittering heels. Grinnet's chignon hairstyle reminded Lily of those elegant actresses in old black and white movies that spitted out the most memorable lines. Music classes were definitely going to be interesting this year…

"It's a gold band," Lily informed everyone, "with a bunch of sapphires and emeralds and it has a wolf insignia on it."

"Sapphires and emeralds? Isn't that a bit grand for you, Evans?" Madeline whispered to a giggling Cecilia as the others began to search half-heartedly. "_She probably stole it._"

The redhead chose to ignore the accusation as she moved a chair to glance under a table. Finding her father's ring was much more important than dealing with vonArrow. They hadn't even searched for two minutes before Madeline began complaining.

"Can we like stop now? This is hopeless and I'm not spending forever looking for a cheap trinket!"

Though it was hard, Lily's self-deception skills stopped her from hexing the annoying blonde. "My dad's ring is **not** cheap. He's had it forever."

"So? That doesn't mean anything…he could have gotten the thing from one of those muggle fellyphones or found it somewhere."

Emerald eyes narrowed dangerously. "First of all, it's called a _telephone_ and, second of all, my dad _bought_ it for himself as a gift to remember Russia. I'm sure your family has plenty of memoirs from the Netherlands, right?"

"**Germany!**" Madeline's eyes were brimming with revulsion. Everyone knew she hated being reminded that the vonArrows were once poor immigrants. Madeline glanced over at James to see if he would back her up, but his messy head was under a table and he didn't seem to be listening.

"You know what…_whatever_ Evans…you said you used a Summoning Charm and we're tired of looking. _It's not here so get over it!_ Tell daddy to buy another one. Shouldn't be too hard since you seem to have means."

This morning the blonde's heart was set on proving to new Seraphiels that she was the most beautiful witch at Hogwarts. They were required to wear dress robes to implicate a real ball and hers were the best: made of the most fragile white silk that revealed a shadowy outline of her naked body in the light. When Madeline arrived, no one could take their eyes off away…until **Evans** came in right behind looking drop-dead gorgeous. What right did a mere human have to steal the spotlight?

Lily huffed. "My "means" are none of your concern, vonArrow! They're late birthday presents."

She would've been delighted to chuck Herbert and Cornelia's gifts into the fire, but McGonagall had seen them first and pretty much demanded Lily wear them. The custom-made gown was black with a tight, strapless corset bodice and flowing skirt with folds of voluminous fabric. Pretty, yes, except for the fact it made Lily's legs itch very uncomfortably. Not to mention, the sapphire and white diamond chocker did just what its name entailed whenever she talked. Don't even get Lily started on how long it took to tame her curls this morning! She was just happy to make it out alive.

"I'm afraid it's not here Angel Face," Grinnet swept in between the feud. Madeline gave Lily a look that plainly said, "I-told-you-so!" The redhead scowled.

"No problem. I'll look for it myself! If you'll excuse me…"

She turned on her heel and clacked off across the Entrance Hall. The music started up again, waving softly through every ear alongside McGonagall's loud step-counting. Despite what Potter implied, Lily was actually a decent ballroom dancer, managing not to step on feet or break any toes. Her focus zoomed in on the punch table-where a nice, cool glass of pumpkin juice laid waiting. Gently pushing past several admiring Durmstrang boys, Lily soon found herself pouring a drink while gazing into irritated aquamarine eyes.

_Damn!_

"Um, hullo?"

Antoinette didn't answer. Both simultaneously looked down to see Lily's heel caught in the hem of her long gown. She was quick to move it while blushing in embarrassment. "Sorry about that."

The blonde tossed her beautiful hair nonchalantly. "Thank you."

Her native accent wasn't as overpowering as the others from Beauxbatons. Apparently, the girl had been speaking English for a long time. A requisite for a Minister's daughter, Lily supposed. But did this Antoinette have to be so stuck on herself? _Yes_, it was perfectly fine to be cross with someone after they used you as a pillow cushion. But to burst into tears? In front of everyone?

"So…are you feeling better?"

"_Why do you care?_"

"Huh?"

"I said yes I do."

Antoinette jumped as a goblet slammed on the table. "_Look here sister! I already apologized twenty million times yesterday, so if you're looking for special treatment find it somewhere else! You weren't the only one embarrassed yesterday and things could've been worse. At least we're not in the Hospital Wing, okay! I don't know what or who tied your wand in a knot, but don't take it out on me because I'm not dealing with it!_"

Though angry, she managed to keep her voice down to a whisper. To her surprise, instead of giving some dumb retort like vonArrow would or crying again, Madame Royale mumbled under her breath and stared at the floor like a berated child. The girl beside them gave both a sympathetic smile. She was rather pretty with long, honey brown hair in addition to a calculating stare fixed on an emerald gaze. "Lily, right? We were just talking about you."

"Should I be scared?"

"Oh, nothing bad. My name is Pippa and you'll have to excuse Antoinette over there. She may act like a brat now, but once you get to know her, she'll let you borrow the sweetest shoes!"

"I want those back by the way!" snapped the blonde who didn't appreciate being called a brat. "Mère let me have them."

Pippa gently explained as if her best friend wasn't there. "The problem is that mère lets her have everything because she's an only-child so Antoinette's used to having people fuss over her. I read about it in _How Birth Order Affects Your Attitude_ by this muggle named Phil. Have you heard of him?"

Lily felt rather uncomfortable. She was used to other girls being crybabies, tagalongs, or vindictive bitches. Why was this one being so nice? "Can't say I have…"

"He's _wonderful_. I guess you are the baby of the family, right? No offense, but it's pretty obvious. An outgoing charmer. The one who isn't afraid to test the waters or speak her mind. Of course, we can't forget the pampering…really similar to the only child if you think about it…"

What is this girl-a shrink?! Antoinette and Lily glanced at each other shyly. _How could we be alike? _Both thought at once. They came from totally different backgrounds and had almost opposite personalities. To Lily, the blonde was just another spoilt brat who'd never heard the word "no" or always wanted everything her way. She was one of those beautiful It-Girls with an unlimited Gringotts vault and mere air in place of brains. A girl whose type Lily had enough experience with, thank you.

To Antoinette, this new emerald-eyed Seraphiel was just another aspiring social-climber trying to hit another rung on the ladder. She probably cared about nothing except wealth and status. One minute she would be nice and dying to be Antoinette's best friend, then (after achieving that) she'd disappear after enjoying the advantages of social privilege. This Lilyanna, according to mère and experience, was one of those girls she absolutely **had** to befriend just because of who her parents were. Selfish girls that Antoinette didn't want to deal with anymore, thank you.

"Um, Lily? Uh, I mean Miss Evans, uh, or-,"

"Lily's fine. You're Wisteria Gallagher, right? I'm happy Madam Pomfrey fixed your arm from yesterday."

"Y-Yeah I am too…" The third-year blushed under her short red mane. "I wanted to say that I really love your dress." She gave it an admiring glance. "It's _Chanel_, right?"

Lily appeared to be impressed. She never understood how one could tell who designed what just by looking at it without some blaring logo symbolizing the obvious. Petunia was the fashion expert in their family, not her. The redhead shrugged. "I guess. Forgive me if I sound stupid, but you look very familiar. Were you in Paris this summer?"

A trace of longing entered her soft voice. "Um, no. But I really want to go though! A lot of girls in Slytherin have been already and it sounds like _so_ much fun! But, my parents and I never go anywhere. I live in London."

"Me too! Hey, that's where I remember you from. You went to the Mill Hill School before Hogwarts, right? I did also!"

Wisteria looked about ready to swoon at the thought of _The_ Lily Evans-idol extraordinaire-remembering her quiet little self from years past. Everyone at Mill was perplexed when she had mysteriously withdrawn and then disappeared into thin air. But when Wisteria got her first Hogwarts letter in the post, she knew. A girl like Lily had to be attending a magical place like this instead of a stuffy, old muggle private school!

"You must've ridden on the bus with Petunia, Ariel, and me…" A weak grin slowly appeared. "Have you seen Ariel around town? How is she?"

"Fine." Wisteria answered hastily. Pippa frowned as she fidgeted awkwardly. This Ariel girl seemed to be a bittersweet subject. "Um, that's a really pretty necklace! Where'd you get-,"

She yelped suddenly after being pushed aside by a tall boy in blood red dress robes. Ignoring or not hearing the third-year, he smiled charmingly at Lily while extending a thick hand. "Mikhail Yusupov IV. _You _can call me Mikhail. Durmstrang."

The older redhead frowned in disapproval. "Lilyanna Evans…the first. _You_ can call me Evans. Hogwartian."

Antoinette held back snickers at seeing the stunned expression on Mikhail's face. Most women, especially Seraphiel women, fell at his feet when being addressed by him. After all, he was heir to one of the largest fortunes in the wizarding world, son to Regis Felix Yusupov of the Russian Conclave, and (according to many ex-lovers) dreadfully charming. Madame Royale snorted. She'd known Mikhail since diapers because both their fathers held a seat on the Table of Ranks. He was only charming when protocol required he be.

However to Antoinette's surprise, the brown-haired lad grinned shyly. "Bit stuffy of me, wasn't it? Seriously. Call me Mikhail."

"I don't even know you."

"But, I want to know you." He filled a goblet with juice. "Come on little star…don't you remember me? We used to play together."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"_My little star, is that you making all the commotion?" called a rumbling, polished male's voice._

_She emitted a mischievous giggle. "Maybe…"_

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lily drew back in surprise. Little star? That's what the man in her vision had called her! The one where she was stuck as a child! But, how did this boy know that? It wasn't as if Lily ran through the corridors proclaiming her strange daydreams for all to hear. Mikhail stood patiently waiting; his hazel eyes clearly expecting a reply. She then realized he'd spoken to her in Russian.

"I-I," Lily stammered in English before scowling. "**Okay! **_**Who the hell are you**_**?"**

"I've said that already."

"_**Then WHAT is going on?! Why are all these weird things happening to me?!"**_

A calm smile formed on his lips. Like Antoinette, his English was near perfect. "I'm afraid it isn't my place to answer that. Here, I believe you were looking for this."

A bejeweled golden ring with sapphires and emeralds was shoved into sight. Eagerly, the redhead took and placed it back where it belonged. Lily's eyes immediately began to soften as she felt familiar comforting tingles flow through her body. This was the last physical piece of Dmitri Evans she had until he came home. Impatiently brushing back tears, Lily now smiled dazzlingly. "You're the boy from yesterday, aren't you? Gee, um, I'm sorry about that…"

"_Actually_," One of the twins from the dungeons last night raised a hand. She hadn't even noticed them. "I vas boy from yesterday in Great Vall! Ow!"

"You'll have to excuse Ivan. He sometimes forgets his place." Mikhail moved back from the boy (whose foot he'd apparently stepped on) with no apology. "But, rest assured dear lady, everything will be explained come Halloween night."

Without further ado, he leaned forward to press a soft kiss on Lily's pale cheek. She blushed hotly and tried to look everywhere but him. Adding a mischievous wink, the Yusupov heir swept off into the crowd, his twin lackeys not far behind. Soon emerald eyes focused on the fidgeting Wisteria. "Uh, um, yeah…_what was that you said earlier?_"

The third-year blinked twice in surprise at being addressed again before regaining her senses. "Your necklace is _so_ beautiful! I wish I had something fancy like that to wear ou-,"

"Here. Take it."

Wisteria's round eyes went even wider as the brilliant sapphire and diamond choker became unclasped from Lily's neck and was shortly being offered. She seemed to be frozen with astonishment.

"_Seriously._ It'll look better on you anyway. Though to be honest, I think your necklace is way cooler. Where'd you get it?"

A small hand unconsciously reached to touch a sun-and-crescent moon amulet hanging from her throat. "A friend."

"Well they've got wicked taste! Here-don't take it off!-you can wear both of them." She clasped the choker around Wisteria's neck. "Not too tight, is it?

The younger witch was obviously overwhelmed with gratitude. She began to bounce on the balls of her feet as if preparing to fly off into the sky. "_It's perfect_!"

"Awesome." Lily confirmed while smiling brightly. She always did better with younger students. They were just so carefree and innocent and this Wisteria reminded Lily of herself when she was younger. But…she frowned. Wisteria was a Slytherin, not to mention a _muggle-born_ Slytherin. That just spelled **disaste**r. Who knew what the poor girl had been through?

"You know we redheads have to stick together! If you ever want to talk, just owl me or ask Treth where I am. This Prefect badge doesn't sit on my robes to collect dust!"

Wisteria giggled: the loudest noise she'd made so far. Lily could recall how quiet the girl was on those muggle bus rides to school. Even when she talked now, her voice was low and similar to an urgent whisper- almost like she was desperate not to be heard.

"Well I'm off." She abruptly straightened. "Got to make sure Treth doesn't kill his fiancé. That would look _great_ with ICW, right? See you later sweetie! Bye, Pippa…Madame Royale."

"_Antoinette._"

"What?"

"_My name is Antoinette_."

Her aquamarine eyes were cool yet studied Lily as if she'd never seen anything like her before. The other witch knew better than to look away. People like the Duclaireses were practically royalty and even limitless amounts of extravagance didn't surprise them. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, Lily giving an uncomfortable necklace to a younger girl had been deemed impressive. The redhead knew better than to think Antoinette never saw an act of charity before. Her dreadful experiences with H.C. years taught her enough. Celestyn Duclaires was definitely one of the powerful "ladies who lunch" in the wizarding world. But, maybe her precious daughter was different.

Nodding a last goodbye, Lily swept off while feeling both elated and wary. All of this hoity-toity nonsense was driving her insane! Strange events were happening and the least of Lily's worries was whether she could pour tea correctly without spilling a drop. No. She had to prepare for more important things. Important yet peculiar new people were dropping hints, but no real information to work with. Glancing around to make sure nobody was paying attention, Lily dived for the nearest staircase. The Restricted Section seemed a good place to start.

After all, sometimes you have to learn what they don't teach you.

* * *

"_James…"_

"What? Who are you?"

"_You know who I am, James…I have always been with you…follow your heart James…"_

"I don't understand! What do you want from me?!"

"_To be happy…show them who you really are…follow your heart early on…trust your instincts…don't repeat the mistakes I did…"_

"You're not making any bloody sense, damn it!"

"_You'll understand soon…follow your heart…"_

"**TELL ME WHO YOU ARE! I DON'T KNOW YOU! LEAVE ME ALONE!**"

James suddenly awoke in a cold sweat, struggling in a desperate battle against his sheets. Thoroughly tangled, he still managed to grab his glasses off the nightstand. The dream…that damn voice! James had had it for as long as he could remember. At first, everything had been blamed on listening to too many scary shows on the wireless. Yet then, the voice would creep up alongside James's thoughts whenever he wasn't paying attention.

Laughing at Padfoot's bad jokes…whispering helpful prank hints…consoling Moony as James did…cheering him on during Quidditch games…even telling him about secret passages to put on the Map…

Now the voice was telling James to follow his heart. About what? It wasn't like he ever hid anything! Prongs liked to think of himself a simple teenage wizard…with the occasional need to make mischief, of course. He was always straightforward with everyone and wasn't afraid to speak his mind. That's how he'd been raised. All of these qualities would later help him as an Auror.

James had everything planned perfectly. After Hogwarts, he would apply and be accepted into training. Following that, he'd join the war effort against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and become a true hero like his father. Afterwards he could settle down to start a family or travel the world with a beautiful woman who knew how to have fun.

"Hey Prongs, I guess you couldn't take the heat!"

Sirius Black tumbled inside the dormitory with red face and bright eyes, looking as carelessly handsome as ever. He was soon followed by Remus and Peter whom ran towards their beds faster than bowtruckles on doxy eggs. Both jumped in, closed the curtains, wished each other goodnight, and filled the dorm with the sounds of snoring at the same time. The clock beside him told James it was nearly midnight.

"Where have you guys been? That stupid seminar finished at eight!"

"Yeah, and Evans sneaked out early. You should've seen McGonagall's face when she asked her to sing onstage. _Priceless!_"

"Angry?"

"**Livid."**

"When will that shit learn she's not better than the rest of us? Evans acts like she's the Queen of England or someone actually important! What gives her the right to sneak out?"

Sirius gave a pointed look. "You snuck out early."

"That's different." James waved a hand as though swatting an annoying fly. "I have an Invisibility Cloak, and besides I wasn't feeling well. McGonagall would've understood."

"Sure she would, mate. So why'd you sneak out?"

He chucked a pillow at his best friend, who hit it back. Sirius didn't play star Beater on the Quidditch team for nothing. "_Git._"

"I know you love me, Prongs. Everyone does." The Black heir flopped gracefully onto his bed, wearing nothing except pajama bottoms. To most girls, it would've been an erotic fantasy. But to James, it was only his best friend being too lazy to put on a shirt. Sirius was a simple boy like him and a vain one at that. "I'm so bored! Too bad Moony doesn't transform until Sunday…the only thing good I've got planned is that music institute meeting tomorrow and that'll be another bore!"

"You're always bored." James noted mockingly. "How'd you get into that institute anyway? You can't sing worth a lick!"

"Probably Uncle Alphard. He _is_ president of the alumnae association. And, I'll have you know Prongs that my guitar lessons have really paid off! Soon I'll be sounding like Damian Dash!"

He snorted. "No one can sound like Damian Dash! It's impossible! Let's face it: Demented Tumor is nothing without him!"

Both boys nodded solemnly as if they were just told the meaning of life. Suddenly, a worried expression appeared on one of their faces.

"Padfoot," James began to hesitate. "How is your Uncle Alphard doing?"

A piece of parchment that he hadn't noticed before was clutched in Sirius's hand. It tightened even more at the question, causing the paper to crinkle up. "Promise you won't tell Moony? He'll start fussing over me."

"I'm more worried about you Padfoot. We've been brothers since the first train ride here. If you can't trust me with a secret, then who can you?"

He lifted his head toward James and the latter was struck by the mourning in his best friend's once laughing eyes. "St. Mungo's, Prongs…they, I mean, _he _had another heart attack…and-and they put him in St. Mungo's…"

"He'll bounce back Padfoot. Your uncle's tough."

"I-I know, but…" Tears were impatiently brushed away. "He's in the hospice quarter! You know the wing for the ones who are gonna-gonna-gonna…"

A concerned frown tainted James's lips as Sirius struggled to find the right words.

"Uncle Alphard's taught me everything I know. **Everything! **He wasn't always sick! I remember! He used to play with me and Regulus when mother wouldn't or when father was too busy locked up in his office! He taught me how to tie my bootlaces, eat with a fork, pick up girls! For Merlin's sake, Uncle taught me my first spell…it tied Kreacher's ears in a knot…DAMN IT!"

He angrily punched a nearby bedpost, not noticing as blood poured from his knuckles. James fixed the injury with a mutter, and a wave of his wand. "Look Padfoot…I've never had a relative die on me before so I can't help you there. But don't act like he's all you have left! You've got me and Moony and even Wormtail! That's what friends are for! You are not alone Padfoot and you never will be!" Stern yet gentle hazel eyes bore into desolate blue. "_Marauder's Oath._"

"You can't guarantee something like-,"

"_Marauder's Oath._"

"Come on Prongs-,"

"_Marauder's Oath._"

"James-,"

"_Marauder's Oath, damn you! _Just say it before I tell Cecilia about you and Emmeline Vance yesterday in the broom cupboard!_"_

Sirius noticeably winced. "You hit where it hurts, mate. Doesn't matter though. I was planning to break it off soon." He outstretched a hand. "_Marauder's Oath. _May one of us drop dead and enter a land of no mischief-making if this promise is broken!"

Both gave loud gasps of horror, opened their palms, and hawked spit into each other's hands. This time it was James who grimaced. "We really have to find a new oath…"

"Are you kidding me? It's a classic! No one else will do it." Sirius pulled the sheets over his muscular body. "Thanks mate."

"No problem. Good night, Padfoot."

All became forgotten. James grinned widely before turning to face the window. His bed was closest to it. He had too much energy to go to sleep now and the stars looked beautiful tonight. Reaching into his trunk, James pulled out a notepad with sticks of colorful chalk. Flipping through the pages, he took a mere moment to admire the handsome artwork inside. Each picture was different, but all of them displayed a moving scene.

Potter Manor… English gardens…the Eiffel Tower…Gryffindor common room…a lion pouncing onto a withering serpent…his friends playing Exploding Snap… 

They didn't know about this, and James planned to keep it that way. This phase, similar to listening to too many scary wireless shows, would pass like the others. Quidditch stars and future Aurors weren't supposed to be artists after all.

On parchment, a nimble hand began to capture the sight of a shooting star while ignoring the bubbling happiness in his heart.

"

* * *

**HOPE YOU LIKED THIS CHAPTER! THE ONLY QUESTION I'LL LEAVE YOU WITH IS: **_**WHAT'S SO SPECIAL ABOUT WISTERIA GALLAGHER? **_**(HINT: Remember what the Book of Shadows looks like from Lily's journal entry in Ch. 3&4. Then, go back to her and Wisteria's conversation.) To me, it's obvious.  
But to you…**

**ALSO SOMEONE YOU KNOW & LOVE FRM. MY LAST STORY IS COMING BACK NEXT CHAPPIE! **

**I'm surprised no one (except my beta) asks about Treth Hallow! I love him! Did any of you realize that he's (**_**well partially**_**) mute? Or did you all think Lily was just crazy? I mean, it should be obvious how he communicates with her…but then, I'm the author! What can you do? **

**LOVE YA! **


	10. A Second Shadow Warning

**Book of Shadows: Second Warning**

_You are developing a thirst for knowledge. Marvelous. The goddess Athena is proud. I know because I summon her soul often to the shadows, but never for pleasant chatter. She has the only mind capable of matching mine. What shame. Perhaps, as the Grand Sorceress you are destined to become, you will match my mind one day. I doubt you will surpass me. Forgive my arrogance, but no human is capable of such a feat. No human or Seraphiel._

_Rowena Ravenclaw came close, but her heart and mind grew weak in the end from her daughter's betrayal. What shame. What worse can happen to a creature of passion than to be betrayed by flesh and blood? Nothing. I was once a creature of passion myself. I smiled. I laughed. I touched. I felt emotions. I even fell in love. Out of the wonderful things I once did, the only act I regret is the last. Love, my Seraphiel, is for fools. Fools who dream with their hearts and refuse to think with their minds. I shall advise you many times against love, but you are a particularly stubborn partner. Perhaps my most stubborn yet, which is much to say. I have been a guide for the greatest and most stubborn minds the world has ever known. But out of all my former partners, your mind will become the greatest._

_I must warn you, young Seraphiel. The shadows are close and so is their Lord. Closer than you think. In these times, your greatest allies may be your greatest enemies. Your greatest enemies may become your greatest allies. I can teach you how to differentiate. I can teach you how to read a man's soul. I can teach you how to reward those who aid you, and punish those who wish you harm. I can teach you every great magic that was ever created._

_Fear me not, curious little flower. I can never abandon you. Yet, I shall chastise you and push you towards the ultimate goal. The secrets lie on my pages. Alongside them are the clues to your destiny._

* * *

**AN: SORRY IT'S BEEN SO LONG! ANYWAY, I ERASED THE LAST CHAPTER (THE SEGMENT THAT INTRODUCED THE ORLOVS) BECAUSE IT DIDN'T FIT WITH WHAT I WANTED TO DO. SO JUST PRETEND YOU DIDN'T READ IT IN ANTICIPATION! BELIEVE ME. MY NEW VERSION WILL BE MUCH BETTER! **


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